


Let's All Pack Up and Move This Year

by empressearwig



Category: Disney RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-22
Updated: 2010-08-22
Packaged: 2017-10-11 04:57:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/108663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/empressearwig/pseuds/empressearwig
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a story about finding yourself and then finding your way back. Set six years in the future, it is the story of Nick and Miley's separate struggles with the choices they've made and who they've become, and how the choices they make next will change the rest of their lives. The story deviates from "reality" somewhere in fall 2009.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let's All Pack Up and Move This Year

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the jb_bigbang. Many thanks to perfectlystill, normative_jean, and leobrat.

_Let's all pack up and move this year  
Slip the liars and disappear  
Leave memories for auctioneers  
And those just standing still  
They'll miss the taste of wanting you  
Call out your name like I still do  
But they never said a word that's true  
And they only hold you down_

~ Matt Nathanson, Heartbreak World

_I should know who I am by now  
I walk the record stands somehow  
Thinking of winter  
Your name is the splinter inside me_

~ Joshua Radin, Winter

Six days before her twenty-fourth birthday, sitting in her trailer in Wilmington, North Carolina, Miley has an epiphany. It's not a bolt of lightning from the sky or the voice of god in her ear, but it's there and it's hers. And it's so simple that she doesn't know why she didn't realize it sooner.

She's not happy.

One minute, she's reading her lines, trying to figure out if she's ever known a teenager that talks like this _Capeside_ script reads, and the next, she's struck by the realization that if this is what she gave up her entire life to have, then maybe it wasn't worth it after all. If all the time and energy and love that she poured into building her career as a teenager led her here, to a guest spot on a spin off of a show that was at it's peak a more than a decade earlier, then what the hell did she do it for?

It's not the kind of epiphany you want to have five minutes before you're due on set and you still don't know your lines.

She's still staring blankly at her script when the curly-haired PA whose name she can never remember knocks on the door of her trailer and pokes her head inside. "Ms. Cyrus? We need you as soon as you're ready."

Miley just blinks at her. She smiles weakly. "Just give me a minute, okay? I'll be right behind you."

The PA looks hesitant, like she's debating whether or not to say something. If a PA is looking at her like that, Miley thinks, she doesn't even want to know what she looks like right now. In the end, the PA just nods and closes the door of the trailer, leaving Miley alone again.

Miley slumps down on her sofa and groans. This is going to be the day from hell, she can already tell.

***

When they break for lunch two hours later, Miley's exhausted. All she wants to do is go back to her apartment and crawl under the covers and pretend today never started.

She calls Demi instead.

Demi answers on the second ring, and Miley barely lets her say hello before she's asking the question that she's no longer certain she knows the answer to.

"Are you happy, Dem?"

There's a long pause and Miley thinks she can hear Demi wondering if she's had some sort of psychotic break. Miley's not so sure she hasn't. "Yes," Demi says finally, stretching the one syllable out to two. She waits a beat. "Are you?"

Miley lets out the breath she wasn't even aware she'd been holding and sinks down onto her couch, tucking her feet up underneath her. "I don't know. I don't think so."

"What's wrong, Miles?"

Miley laughs and the sound of it, more broken and bitter than she's ever heard before, scares her. She doesn't want to sound like that. She doesn't know who the person that could sound like that is.

"Miley?"

She blinks, bringing the room back into focus. "Sorry."

"It's okay. What's wrong, Miles?" Demi repeats. Her voice is gentle and Miley can hear the worry laced through every word.

Miley shrugs her shoulders helplessly and says, "I don't know. I just --" She breaks off and asks, "How do you know you're happy?"

Demi pauses again. "I don't know," she says haltingly. "I just -- I just do. Why do you think you're not happy?"

Miley looks out the little window of the trailer and tries to think of something that won't make her sound certifiably insane. "Have you ever just known something was true? You don't know where it came from, you don't know why you didn't realize it sooner, but all of a sudden you know and everything is different?"

"Yes."

"That's what happened. I was just sitting there trying to memorize my lines and all of a sudden I just knew -- knew that this isn't what I want to be doing with my life." She laughs again, and she sounds less bitter to her own ears. "It's certainly not what I planned to be doing."

"What did you think you'd be doing?"

Miley sighs and rakes her hand back through her hair before remembering that the hair dresser will probably kill her for that. She shrugs. "I don't know, I thought I'd be making movies and touring and it would all be the same forever. And it's not. I'm guest starring on a goddamn spin off of _Dawson's Creek_, Dem." She hears Demi start to laugh and warns, "Don't you laugh. I haven't written a song in five years. It's -- it's just not what I thought it was going to be."

"So why keep doing it?"

"My contract for one."

"That's one," Demi counters. "And I know you're filming your last episode now. Do you have anything else lined up?"

"A couple things," Miley hedges. She doesn't want to think about how little there really is. It's too depressing and she's depressed enough.

"Anything you can't get out of?"

"No," Miley says slowly. "What are you suggesting?"

"Close your eyes."

"What?" Miley splutters. "How is that --"

"Do it," Demi orders. "And make it fast, I have to get back to the studio."

Miley closes her eyes, with a sigh. "Fine."

"Think about the last time you were happy. Really happy, happy all the way down to your bones. Happy because of you, not anything else."

Miley casts her mind back. Her mind is crowded with images, with memories of things she's done and places she's been, but those aren't what Demi means. She knows what Demi means. And as she sifts through her past, she keeps coming back to the same thing. The same place. The same word.

Home.

Miley opens her eyes. "I think I know what I need to do. Where I need to go," she corrects. It's impulsive, it's probably a little crazy, but just thinking about it is making her feel lighter than she has in weeks, maybe years. If there's one thing she's learned through the years, it's that when something feels this right, it usually is.

"Where are you going, Miley?"

She smiles. "Home."

###

"Can you play that back?" Nick asks, from his seat in the booth. The sound engineer obliges and Nick listens to the vocals that the band just recorded. He frowns, considering. Something about them isn't right. He just doesn't know what it is. He leans forward, presses the button to talk to the recording booth. "Let's do that again. This time with, I don't know, more longing."

The singer nods and Nick leans back in his chair. Kevin was right about this band, Nick thinks to himself. He's just not sure Kevin was right that he should be the one producing their album. Not when all the music in his head is such a muddle. Music lives in Nick's head, it always has. But it's always been clear, focused, and it's anything but that. It makes it hard to do his job.

He makes himself concentrate on the new vocal track. He half smiles to himself, tapping his fingers restlessly against his thigh. This is better. This might even be good.

When they finish and look at the booth for a verdict, Nick flashes a thumbs up. Maybe today won't have been a waste after all.

***

The session ends and Nick promises to send copies of the demos once he's finished fiddling with them. He's pretty sure that they're going to be happy with the results. He's mostly happy with them and he's never happy with something this early in the recording process.

He steps out of the studio and onto a cold, busy Chicago street. He turns up the collar of his coat and starts walking. He could have called for a car, but he's not in the mood. Part of the reason he settled in Chicago was that no one cared who he was, that he could blend in and just be a face in the crowd. He wants to be a face in the crowd right now. So he walks.

He takes his cell out of his pocket and dials Joe's number. He should probably call Kevin, give him a report on how the session went, but Nick doesn't want to think about work anymore today. He wants... well, he doesn't know what he wants. And Joe's the brother to talk to when he feels like that. He waits for Joe to pick up, ear pressed to the phone.

"Nicky!" Joe's voice comes through in a boom. A very happy boom.

"Don't call me that," Nick says reflexively. That name is something that's best left in the past. A past with someone else.

"Aw, did someone wake up on the wrong side of the bed?"

Nick laughs. "I know you're on theatre hours, Joseph, but it's afternoon. Some of us actually have to get up in the morning and do work."

"Oh, but is it really work if it's what you love?" Joe asks in his best _'I am a dramatic actor'_ voice. Sometimes Nick thinks acting classes were the worst thing to ever happen to his brother.

Nick changes the subject. "How's Demi?"

"She's good," Joe says, voice back to normal. "Really good."

"Good," Nick says. "That's... good."

"Yeah." There's a pause. "Nick," Joe says. "Is everything okay? I mean, I'm sure Dem will be thrilled to know you called just to ask how she is, thus verifying her status as most important person in the world, but you could have, I don't know, called her to ask. And we're going to see you in like, a week for Thanksgiving at Kevin and Dani's."

Nick sighs. "Everything is... It's fine. It should be fine, right? I'm just having a mood."

"Are you sure? Why don't you fly out here for a few days and we'll all head down to Dallas together? Dem would like that."

"I can't," Nick says, shaking his head. "Recording with that band Kevin found, remember?"

"Not really, but that's because I know the two of you do such a good job with running everything so that I don't have to."

Nick makes himself laugh again. "Nice save. Listen, I'm going to get on the El. I'll talk to you later. Give my love to Dem."

"Okay," Joe says. "But I'm not telling her that. She might get _ideas_."

Nick hangs up the phone with a laugh, a real laugh this time. He heads up the steps to the tracks. It's good Thanksgiving is so soon, he thinks to himself. Maybe being around his family is just what he needs to get him out of whatever the hell mood he's in. He hopes it will.

###

The shoot wraps up two days later and her agent calls her to say that the producers are already talking about how to write her back in for more episodes this spring and all Miley can do is laugh. When the spring comes, she will not be in Wilmington. She doesn't care if she ever comes back to Wilmington again. But she can't tell her agent that, not when she hasn't even told her family her plans. So she makes vague noises that she knows are being taken for agreement if not interest and ends the call as soon as possible.

She'll be telling her agent soon enough. It's not a conversation she's looking forward to.

***

Miley flies home to Nashville the next day. She's relieved to not be going back to L.A. first thing, it's the last place in the world she wants to be right now. Maybe the last place she ever wants to be ever again.

Los Angeles makes her feel like a failure. She's tired of feeling that way. She doesn't know when she accepted that it was normal to feel that way, but she wishes she could go back in time and stop it from ever happening. She doesn't recognize who she's become.

She wants to know who she is when she looks at herself in the mirror. It's been too long since that happened.

The farm is a comforting place. It's where her best memories are; riding horses with her dad, fighting with Braison over whose turn it was to muck out stalls, baking chocolate chip cookies with her mom and Brandi, sitting on the front porch and looking up at the stars and believing her wishes would come true. Miley knows that she's lucky that they did, even if it was only for a little while.

But as she unpacks her bags in her childhood bedroom, Miley knows that the farm isn't the place for her any longer. It's a security blanket, a place that still lets her feel like the kid that she was before she wasn't. If she's going to rediscover who she is, what makes her happy, she needs to start over. Stand on her own two feet.

She needs to move out. She's not looking forward to that conversation either.

***

Her family starts trickling in to Nashville the week of Thanksgiving. Miley picks Braison up at the airport late on Tuesday evening. Their mom shows up on Wednesday morning with Noie. Brandi and her husband, Mike, get there Wednesday afternoon. Trace sneaks into the house in the middle of the night on Wednesday, setting off the alarm and waking up the whole house. Dad finally arrives on Thanksgiving, when Miley's up to her elbows in potato peels and her mom is pulling her hair out about the turkey.

With all of them in the house, it's loud and noisy and happy, and Miley can't even hear herself think. It's the best she's felt in weeks, maybe months.

When it's time to eat, they all gather around the table, Braison still sulking because Mom insisted that they follow the no football during dinner rule. Miley tries hard not to laugh at him, but sometimes he still acts like he's twelve. She takes Noah's hand on her left and Brandi's on her right while Daddy says grace. Everyone digs in and for the first few minutes, the only conversation becomes "pass the potatoes" or "can I have some more turkey, please."

Then, almost out of the blue, comes the question that Miley's been dreading for days. Her mom looks at her, bright smile on her face, and asks, "So Miles, when are you coming back to L.A.?"

Miley sets her fork down on her plate. She picks up her wine glass, takes a small drink, trying to think of what exactly she's going to say. She's had all week to think of an answer, why doesn't she have one? She's taking too long to answer, she knows she is. She can see it in the way that her mom is looking at her now, like there's a cause for concern.

"Miles?" her mom prompts, a hint of that same concern in her voice.

"I'm not going back," Miley says finally. "Not now, anyway. I don't know when."

Her mom frowns. "What does that mean, you're not going back? You live there."

"Not anymore." Miley offers a weak smile. "I'm going to move back to Nashville, isn't that great?"

Now her mom is staring at her like she's grown a second head. Everyone is staring at her like she's grown a second head. "What? But --"

Miley pushes her chair back from the table. "Excuse me." She rushes out of the room, out the front door and onto the porch. She braces her hands against the railing and doubles ochiver, trying to take deep breaths to steady herself. This must be what a panic attack feels like, she thinks.

The door opens behind her and someone steps out onto the porch. They step up next to her and lay a warm hand on her back. She looks down at their shoes and knows that it's her father. Only he would wear actual cowboy boots to Thanksgiving dinner. And only her daddy would know that the last thing she needs right now is to talk.

Miley doesn't know how long they stand there silently in the dark, but she's almost grateful when her dad finally speaks.

"Better?" he asks, the country twang in his voice giving warmth to the word.

She straightens and turns to face him. She nods. He opens his arms and she steps into them, burrowing her face in his shirt. Her father's arms have always been one of the safest places in the world for her. This is no different.

But if she wants to really be a grown up, that probably means she should act like one, and that means she can't hide out on the porch forever. She steps back and tries to give her father a smile. "How mad is mom?"

Her dad shakes his head. "Don't worry about that, darlin'." He sits down on the porch swing and pats the place next to him. "Sit."

She sits.

"What's going on, Miles?"

She bites her lip, not sure how to begin, how to explain. She's afraid that it's all going to sound ridiculous, like she's ungrateful for everything that her parents have given her. Given up for her in some ways. The things they made Braison and Noah give up.

Her father nudges her with his elbow. "Go on now, you know you can tell me anything."

She turns to look at him and half smiles, because yes. She does know that. After that, it all wooshes out of her in what seems like one breath. "It's just -- I was on set, waiting in my trailer, trying to learn my lines -- and I just _knew_. Knew that I wasn't happy anymore, that I didn't want to be doing that. And I made it through the shoot and then I called Demi and she made me see that I'm only really happy when I'm here, so shouldn't I be here? Where I'm happy? Instead of in L.A. where I'm not?" She looks beseechingly at her father. "Shouldn't I be where I'm happy? Shouldn't I _be_ happy? What's wrong with me that I'm not happy, Daddy? What's wrong with me?"

"Darlin'," her father says again, and wraps his arm around her shoulders. "Of course you should be happy. And if you think that being here, being home, will make you happy, then you should do that. Did you think your mom or I wouldn't understand that?"

"I don't know." She sighs. "I'm kind of a mess."

Her dad drops a kiss on the top of her head. "So are we all, darlin'. So are we all."

They lapse back into silence, the squeaky chains of the swing the only noise in the night air.

###

Thanksgiving is exactly the kind of loud and messy distraction that Nick hoped it would be. It's hard -- almost impossible, even -- to live in your own head when there's a nephew to teach the right way to play guitar and a niece to admire and endless discussions of when Joe and Demi are finally going to get married to ignore and his mom fussing over how thin he is to put up with. It's exactly what he needs. His family and endless football. Could there be a better way to spend a long weekend? Nick doesn't think so.

He's holding Livvie on his lap watching the early football game when Joe plops down next to him on the couch. Nick gives him a sideways look and Joe grins.

"So little brother," Joe begins. "How's life in the windy city?"

Nick turns his gaze back to the football game. Goddamn, how is it possible the Lions are _still_ this terrible? "Fine."

"Really?"

"Really." He looks at his brother, who's making faces at the baby and making her clap her hands in delight. "Here, you take her since you two have about the same emotional maturity."

Joe takes Livvie and bounces her on his knee. "I know you think I should be offended by that, but nope. Not so much. Being in touch with your inner child isn't something to be ashamed of, Nicholas."

Demi wanders in from the kitchen, biting into a carrot stick. "What is Joe not ashamed of now? Is he telling you the story about how he accidentally mooned the backer of the play, thinking it was one of his castmates? That's a good one." She perches on the arm of the couch and holds out her finger for Livvie to grab.

Joe pokes Demi in the side. "No. Aren't you supposed to be on my side here, anyway?"

Demi arches an eyebrow at him and ruffles his hair. "That depends on whether or not yours is the right side."

Joe's jaw drops. "Hey!" he sputters. "Some girlfriend you are."

Demi grins. "I'm an awesome girlfriend and you know it." She ruffles his hair one more time and gets up to take the seat on the other side of Nick. "So Nick," she says casually. "How's life?"

Nick groans. "Oh, no. You're not going to do this."

"Do what?" Joe asks in his best attempt at an innocent tone of voice. "We're not doing anything, are we, Dem?"

Demi shakes her head. "Of course not."

"You're terrible liars, both of you," Nick says, looking back and forth between them. "Seriously, what are you up to?" He turns his gaze on Demi, knowing that she's more likely to break first. She's always been a softer touch than she likes to let on.

And sure enough, she breaks right on schedule. "We're just worried about you, Nick. Joe said you sounded really, I don't know, sad, last week. Is everything okay?" He opens his mouth to answer, but Demi cuts him off. "I mean, for real. Not in Nick Jonas land where you're always okay."

"I'm fine, I promise," Nick says, patting her on the knee. "I just had a weird day. We all have weird days." He shoots his brother a look. "Some of us more than others."

"Are you sure?" Demi presses. "Because with everything with Miley --" Her eyes go wide and she slaps her hand over her mouth.

Nick ignores the fact that his heart starts beating a little bit faster. "Everything with Miley what?" he asks, trying to keep his voice level. He shouldn't still worry about her like this. He knows it. But he's never been able to make himself stop. "Is she okay?"

Demi bites her lip. "I wasn't supposed to say anything."

"Kind of too late for that," Joe points out, looking up from playing peek-a-boo with Livvie. "You might as well tell him, I'm sure it'll show up in the tabs eventually."

"I guess," Demi says, still looking worried, like she's about to betray a confidence. Which, Nick guesses, she is.

"Dem, it's not like I'm going to go call _Us Weekly_. I'm not even going to call Miley. We haven't talked in like, two years, remember?" He's not bitter about that, not at all.

Demi sighs. "Fine. She's moving back to Nashville."

Nick frowns. "Is that all? You had me worried that she was --"

"When I say she's moving back to Nashville, I mean, she's giving up on acting, music, everything," Demi interrupts. "She's just so unhappy." Demi squeezes his forearm. "I don't want you to be that unhappy, okay?"

"I"m not," he assures her. She doesn't look convinced. "I promise."

She's about to say something else, but then they're being called into the dining room for dinner and Nick sits next to Kevin and talks business so that he doesn't have to think about whether or not he's happy and how he feels about knowing that Miley's so profoundly unhappy.

He's not unhappy. He's really not. Are there things he'd change about his life? Sure. He figures that no one has a completely perfect life. But he's got a pretty great one and it feels wrong to complain about the little things that could be different. He absolutely believes that to be true.

Just like he knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the happiest he's ever been is when Miley was in his life. Part of him wonders if maybe she still feels the same way.

###

Thanksgiving ends and everyone goes back to their lives. Except her. Miley stays behind, determined to start on a new life for herself. A happier life for herself.

Her parents tried to convince her that she should stay at the farm, but she knows that she's right about needing to leave. Which means that step one of her new life plan needs to be finding a place to live.

She calls Taylor.

If any of her friends knows about living in Nashville it's Taylor, even if she's only here for half the year anymore. Taylor will be able to tell her what real estate agent to use, what the new hot neighborhood is, where to go shopping. Or Taylor would be able to tell her all of that, Miley thinks, if she would just pick up the phone.

She's about to give up hope and leave a voicemail, when Taylor's voice comes breathless through the phone.

"Hello?" Taylor says. "Miley? What's going on?"

"Hi," Miley says brightly. "I'm in town. I wanted to see if you'd want to get coffee. Talk."

"Talk?" Taylor zeroes in on that one word. "Sure. When?"

Miley looks out the kitchen window. "How's now?"

"Oh," Taylor says with surprise. "I can do now. Why don't you meet me here? That way if coffee turns into, oh, I don't know, shopping, we'll only have one car to worry about."

Miley laughs. She loves Taylor. "Absolutely. See you soon."

"Okay, bye!" Taylor trills and hangs up.

Miley tucks her phone into her purse and heads out the door. Taylor's just what she needs to get this new life underway.

***

It takes Miley thirty minutes to get to Taylor's high rise building, and another ten to make it past security and up to the penthouse condo that Taylor and John occupy. When the elevator doors open up into the condo, the first thing Miley sees is Taylor sitting in her husbands lap on a piano bench. They're kissing. It's sort of disgustingly cute. But reminders of how alone she is are not really what Miley needs right now.

"Ahem," she says.

They break apart and two heads swivel towards her in unison. "Miley!" Taylor squeals in delight, extracting herself from John's arms and coming over to give Miley a hug. "You look fabulous."

"You, too." Miley hugs Taylor back. "Married life agrees with you, Mrs. Mayer." She looks over Taylor's shoulder. "Hi, John."

John gives her a half wave. "Hello. I hear you're going to go have girl talk." He makes air quotes around the words girl talk as he says them, and Miley bites her lip to keep from laughing. She doesn't know if Taylor brings out John's dorky side of if he's really this way all the time, but it's hilarious how lame he is and how much he just doesn't care about it. Kind of nice, really.

"We are," Taylor declares, grabbing her own purse. She gives John an absent kiss goodbye. "I'll call you if I'm going to be late. Maybe you can meet us for dinner or something."

"Okay."

Taylor grins at Miley. "This is going to be so much fun!" She takes Miley's arm and drags her back into the elevator. The doors close behind them and Taylor turns to look at her. "So," Taylor says. "Where to first?"

***

First turns into shopping, both of them accumulating bags of clothes and shoes and purses. Their conversation is limited to discussions of whether that top is a good color for Taylor or whether those jeans make Miley's ass look fat. It's nice and it's relaxing, but Miley kind of wants to get to the point of why she wanted to get together with Taylor already, so it's a relief when they finally collapse at a small cafe that Taylor swears has the best lattes in all of Nashville.

A waitress comes to take their order and when she's gone, Taylor looks at Miley with an almost knowing look in her eye. "So," she says. "What's going on, Miles?"

Miley blinks. She hadn't thought she'd been _that_ transparent. Maybe Taylor's just gotten that much better at reading people. Maybe being happy and successful and all the things that Miley should hate Taylor for does that to a person. Maybe --

"Miley?"

Miley blinks again. "Sorry," she says. "My mind wandered. That's been happening a lot lately."

Taylor nods, worry creeping into her expression. "Is everything okay? I mean, you're not --"

"I'm not sick or anything," Miley says quickly. "I promise."

"But something's wrong." The waitress comes back with their coffee and Taylor waits until she's gone to say more, leaning forward, elbows on the table, looking at Miley intently. "Right? Something's wrong?"

Miley stirs her latte and bites her lip. "Yes." She looks at Taylor. "I'm moving back to Nashville. To stay, I mean."

Taylor's face lights up. "But that's amazing! Are you getting your own place? Or are you going to stay at the farm? When are you --"

Miley can't help it, she laughs. "Whoaaa there, Taylor. One question at a time." She takes a drink of her latte. Taylor was right about how good it is. "First, yes, I am going to get my own place. That was actually one of the reasons I called." She smiles hopefully at her friend. "You can hook me up with a realtor, right?"

"Of course I can."

"And I'm here to stay. Now, I mean. I'll have to go back to L.A. to pack up the stuff I want from my place there, if I want anything, but that's really it." She sits back in her chair and eyes Taylor. "It's crazy, right? Just uprooting my entire life and moving back here? I haven't lived here full time since I was like, twelve. I'm crazy."

"No," Taylor says slowly. She flashes a quick grin. "Crazy is getting married in Vegas without telling anyone, but I wouldn't know anything about that." They both laugh, and then Taylor looks at Miley seriously. "But it is kind of, I don't know, sudden, isn't it? What brought this on?"

Miley shrugs. "I just realized that I wasn't happy with how my life in L.A. was going. That I needed a change. And this--" she says, making an expansive gesture, "is home. So what better place to make a change?"

Taylor nods. "Okay." She smiles and pulls out her phone. "So let's get started on making that happen."

***

Finding a house, moving, it all happens faster than Miley thought it would. She wasn't even sure what type of place she was looking for, but somehow despite that, the realtor that Taylor introduced her to just seemed to know and the sixth place she looks at is the one. She knows it the minute she steps inside onto the gleaming hardwood floor of the front hall and sees the bright, airy rooms just waiting for her. She knows, instantly, that this is a place that she can be happy. This is a place she will be happy.

She makes an offer for the house and spends the next few days chewing off her fingernails as she waits to hear whether the sellers have accepted. When the realtor calls to tell her that the house is hers, she actually does a happy dance, something that she's glad no one was around to see. She has some pride left, after all.

The closing is set for just after the first of the year. Suddenly Miley has more advice than she knows what to do with. Her mom wants to help her decorate; Miley turns down the offer, she wants to do this by herself. Every day there's a new message from Taylor with the name of a shop that sells great rugs or a cool new art gallery that she knows Miley will love. Her dad's concerns are more practical, making sure that Miley knows how to do things like unclog a toilet or mow her new lawn, and Miley just laughs and reminds him that she's been living on her own for years now and she's somehow managed to come through it alive.

Miley knows that what really worries him is how far away she's going to be. It worries her sometimes, too.

December comes and goes in a blur of buying Christmas presents and home inspections and everyone coming back to Franklin to celebrate en mass, and then there's New Year's, and before she knows it, Miley's signing the final papers and she's holding the keys to her brand new home.

It's a little bit scary how quickly that all happened. But it's almost a relief in a way, because now she can get on with it, with living this new life that she's still trying to figure out.

She doesn't know what's going to come next. That's the scariest thing of all.

###

Nick goes back to Chicago. He tries to bury himself in his work, scouting local bands who might be ready for the next step, finishing production on the album, trying to write for himself. It's the last one that's the most difficult. He can lie to himself, no problem, but somehow it always comes out in his music. And there are things that he's just not ready to face.

So he throws himself into getting ready for Christmas. If he can't spoil his niece and nephew at Christmas, when can he? That they're both too young to really remember it doesn't factor into it.

The whole family descends on Kevin and Danielle's again, since Paul and Livvie are still little enough to need a Christmas morning at home where Santa Claus knows to find them. They all go to church together on Christmas Eve, and after the stockings have been hung and milk and cookies and carrots laid out for Santa and his reindeer, Nick helps Kevin put the presents under the tree.

They work in companionable silence, just the sound of Christmas carols playing softly in the background. The rest of the family is scattered through the rest of the house, Danielle and their mom in the kitchen getting things ready for tomorrow's Christmas dinner, their dad, Frankie, Joe and Demi in the other room watching _A Christmas Story_. Dad had argued for _It's a Wonderful Life_, but Joe and Frankie still take glee in watching the kid get his tongue stuck to the pole. Nick sort of hopes they're done in time to see it, though he'd go to his grave denying that he likes that part.

He finishes stacking the presents on his side of the tree and crawls out from behind it to see Kevin struggling to assemble a doll swing for Livvie. He watches Kevin for just a minute. Despite the furrowed brow and look of consternation, there's an air of contentment that surrounds Kevin that Nick envies. Kevin seems so sure that he's exactly where he's supposed to be, that he's who he's supposed to be. Nick wishes he felt that way about himself.

Kevin looks up from the instructions and catches Nick staring. He raises an eyebrow. "Can I help you?" He gestures towards the pile of screws and parts on the floor. "Or better, can you help me?"

Nick laughs and scoots across the floor to sit next to his brother. He takes the instructions from Kevin and turns them over. "It might help if you were looking at them right side up."

"I tried that," Kevin sniffs. "They make more sense upside down."

"Sure they do," Nick drawls, tongue firmly in cheek. "Pass me the screw driver, would you?"

Together they work to build the swing, conversation limited to things like "give me that piece, no that other piece." Somehow, and Nick's not sure how, they end up with a finished swing at the end.

As Kevin sticks a bow on top and puts it with the rest of the gifts, Nick stretches his arms over his head. "Next year," he says, wincing as his neck cracks in ways he's pretty sure it shouldn't, "Next year, look into preassembled, would you?"

"But what's the fun in that?" Kevin steps back from the tree and looks at it with admiration on his face. "It looks pretty great, right?"

"It does."

"Well then." Kevin claps Nick on the back. "Thanks for the help, little brother. I should go see if Dani needs anything."

Nick watches Kevin start for the doorway, but something makes him call him back. "Kev, wait."

Kevin turns back around. "What?"

Now, with Kevin looking at him expectantly, Nick feels silly. He's not even sure what exactly he wants to ask his brother and he's certain whatever comes out of his mouth is going to sound ridiculous. He shakes his head. "Never mind. I-I forgot what I was going to say."

Kevin takes a step back towards him. "Are you sure? You've been kind of, well, off is the best way I can think of to put it, ever since you got here. Is everything okay?"

Nick smiles weakly. "Yeah. I think I'm just tired. It's been a long couple weeks, you know?"

Kevin grins. "You're talking to a guy with two little kids in the weeks before Christmas. Believe me, I know. I think I could sleep for a week."

"Yeah, good luck with that," Nick snorts. He nods his head towards the stairs. "I think I'm just going to call it a night. I'm sure Paul's going to be up at the crack of dawn."

"I think you can count on that."

"Good night," Nick says. He heads for the stairs and Kevin heads towards the kitchen. He pauses at the foot of them, looking back at the tree which is still alight, star glowing at the top. It's Christmas and he's with his family. He should be happy. But looking at the star on top of the tree, he knows that he's not.

He wonders what it's going to take for him to be that way again.

***

Christmas morning starts at the ungodly hour of five a.m. The sound of feet pounding down the stairs wakes him, but it's Joe flipping his lights on and off while banging on the door that makes him get out of bed to chase Joe down the stairs. Some things just can't go unpunished. Waking him up while it's still dark outside is one of them.

Nick flops down on one of the couches and gives Dani a grateful nod when she passes him a mug of coffee. As he gulps it down, he looks around the room at his family. Paul's practically bouncing up and down in front of the Christmas tree while Kevin starts to play Santa. Dani is handing Frankie a cup of coffee with a disapproving look. His mom is holding Livvie, who is staring, enraptured, at the Christmas lights. Joe's tugged Demi into his lap, and Nick watches them for just a second, before he has to look away because of the jealousy burning in his stomach. Demi's laughing and Joe's pressing a kiss to her shoulder, and it feels too intimate for anyone else to see. And Nick's happy they have it -- happy they have each other -- but he wants that for himself in the worst way.

He doesn't like feeling so small.

A present is thrust into his hands. He blinks and looks down. Paul is standing in front of him grinning like only a four-year-old on Christmas morning can.

"Merry Christmas, Uncle Nick!"

Nick can't help it, he grins back. Even with whatever mood he's in, it would take a stronger man than him to resist his nephew's smiling face. The kid is really too cute for his own good. "Merry Christmas, buddy." He sets the present aside and makes a grab for Paul, tickling his sides mercilessly. Paul shrieks with laughter and Dani shoots him a disapproving mom look.

He gives her his best sheepish look. "Sorry?" He doesn't mean it.

She sighs. "I suppose it's not like he could get any more hyper." She holds up a hand immediately, as if to ward off the thought. "Joe, that is not a dare."

"I don't know why I have this reputation," Joe protests, frowning at Demi as she starts to laugh.

Demi presses a kiss to his cheek. "You're terribly abused."

"Presents?" Kevin suggest mildly his spot next to the tree.

"Presents!" Paul squeals, scrambling down out of Nick's arms and over to his father's side.

It's as if Kevin said the magic word; the room explodes into chaos. Frankie and their Dad help Kevin pass out presents, Paul practically quivers with excitement as they pile up in front of him. Paper is torn off and gifts admired. Thank you's are shouted across the room and hugs exchanged. It takes maybe thirty minutes from start to finish. It is completely exhausting.

After, Nick helps Kevin clean up the piles of shredded wrapping paper while everyone else crowds into the kitchen to beg for the first of the traditional Christmas morning pancakes. Nick's pretty sure that Paul and Joe are competing to see who can look more pitiful to get the honors.

"Thanks for the help," Kevin says as he passes Nick a trash bag. "And thanks _so much_ for the drum set. Really."

Nick grins. It was an inspired gift idea if he does say so himself. "You don't think Paul will like it?" he asks innocently, stuffing the remains of the brightly colored paper into his bag.

"I think you might be Paul's new favorite uncle." Kevin pauses. "I also think that you won't be welcome back in our house until next Christmas, if then. Dani is going to _kill_ you later."

"She loves me."

"She loves her sleep more. What on earth possessed you to think that was a good idea?"

Nick shrugs, and stuffs some more paper into the bag.

"Nick," Kevin says. "Is everything okay?"

Nick looks up in surprise. "What? Why wouldn't everything be okay?"

"Because it's pretty clearly not. Everyone is worried about you. You've just been... not yourself. For weeks now."

Nick sits back on his heels and shakes his head. "I'm fine."

"You're not," Kevin says. He stands up and pats Nick on the shoulder. "When you're ready to talk about it, I'm ready to listen." He heads towards the kitchen, and Nick watches him go, still caught off guard.

He didn't realize that he was being so obvious. He never meant to worry his family, he knows he's caused them enough worry over the years; he never would add to it willingly. With a sigh, he pushes himself up off the ground and starts towards the kitchen. He's just going to have to get better at faking it until he knows what he's going to do next.

If only that weren't easier said than done.

###

It doesn't take Miley long to realize that she's not cut out for a life of leisure. She's been working more or less nonstop since she was twelve years old and somewhere along the line it became normal to have a schedule for all twenty-four hours of the day. At first she channels all her energy into the house, going through paint chips and picking out furniture, making the house into a place that can become her home. But she can only agonize over the difference between Blush and Bashful for so long before her eyes start to cross, and she doesn't really have the patience for endless deliberation between styles of couches. She's more concerned about having somewhere to sit than what her couch says about her as a person. That she had that thought at all tells her that she made the right decision in leaving Los Angeles.

So she starts exploring the city. It's one thing to live somewhere as a kid, to visit it as a teenager, and another to settle there as an adult. She takes long rambling walks with her dog, learning her neighbors names when they stop to admire him. (That her dog might be better at meeting people than she is, she ignores.) She finds a favorite coffee shop where the barrista remembers her name and her order. The first time Miley goes in and is asked if she wants the usual, she almost cries. She's home.

Despite her best efforts, she can't escape the nagging sense of boredom. Of lack of purpose. It doesn't help that her agent is calling her more often than she ever did before, wanting to know if she's gotten over whatever's wrong with her and is ready to go back to work.

Miley knows she's not ready for that. But she's ready for something. She just doesn't know what it is.

***

Taylor shows up on her doorstep on a Wednesday morning, bright smile on her face, guitar in hand. Miley just blinks at her.

"What are you doing --" is all she manages to get out before Taylor is pushing past her into the house, leaving a breezy hello in her wake. She has absolutely no idea what's going on right now. She closes the door to find Taylor settling on her couch, already pulling her guitar out of the case.

She tries again. "Taylor, it's not that I'm not happy to see you, but what the hell are you doing here?" She nods towards the guitar. "And with that?"

"Oh," Taylor says, trying to look innocent. "Didn't I tell you I was coming?"

Miley laughs and crosses her arms over her chest. "You know you didn't. And you didn't answer my second question. What's with the guitar?"

Taylor manages to look sort of sheepish. "Well, you need something to do, right? We're going to do this."

"I'm still not clear on what _this_ is," Miley says, making air quotes around the word this. She shudders. She's been spending too much time around John. That was not really a habit she wanted to pick up.

"We're going to write together, silly," Taylor says. She pats the spot next to her on the couch. "Come on, sit down."

Miley stays where she is. "Write together?" She shakes her head, panic starting to creep through her. "Oh no. No, no, no, no. No, we're not."

"Did you want to say no a few more times?"

"Yes. No." Miley frowns at her friend. "Why would you think I would want to do this? You _know_ how long it's been since I wrote anything."

"I do," Taylor nods. "And that's why you need to do this."

"Maybe that makes sense in Taylor-world, but I'm going to need you to explain that."

Taylor sighs. "Miley, I'm _worried_ about you. Demi's worried about you. Joe's worried about you. You just did this huge, life-altering thing, and you have to feel things about it, but you're not telling any of us about them." She pats the guitar. "That's what this is for."

Miley opens her mouth to answer, but Taylor holds up a hand, warding her off.

"And I know it's been years since you wrote anything. Don't you think that's maybe part of why you have so much bottled up inside? Writing is the best way to get what you're feeling out, even if you never share it with anyone else." Taylor gives her a rueful smile. "Or when you share it with the whole world. The point is to get it out. So that's what we're going to do."

"Do I get any say in this at all?"

"No," Taylor says, shaking her head. She pats the couch again. "Sit down."

Miley sits. She runs a finger tip over the curve of the guitar, taking a deep breath. She looks at Taylor. "What if I can't?"

Taylor takes her hand. Squeezes it tight. "You can."

In that moment, Miley believes her completely. She hopes that the feeling lasts. She feels certain that it won't.

***

Miley likes to tell herself there were a lot of reasons she stopped writing music. She was focusing on her acting career. She hated what the music business was becoming. She was afraid of forever being pigeon holed as Hannah Montana.

She's always known those were just excuses. She just didn't want to think about the actual reason. Or rather, the actual person.

Because as with so many other things in her life, it all comes back to him. The boy she fell all the way in love with when she was fourteen years old and never managed to completely move past.

It's unfair the kind of power someone can have over you, she thinks, even when they're not a part of your life and haven't been for years. The last time Miley spoke to Nick was at an after party the night Demi won her first Grammy. That was one year, eleven months, and thirteen days ago.

Not that she's been keeping track.

***

They settle into a routine. Twice a week, once at Miley's, once at Taylor's, they get together and write. Sometimes that means starting something from scratch, sometimes that means they're expanding on something one of them was working on by themselves. That Taylor has a lot to say is not a surprise. Taylor has always had a lot to say. But Miley's surprised by how easily the words are coming now, when they wouldn't for so many years. Now that they've started, they won't stop, and Miley finds herself writing lyrics about everything. How it feels to know that her career peaked when she was seventeen. The sense of betrayal she felt when she realized that Mandy was really only her friend because of the associated fame. Picking up the pieces of her heart all the times Nick broke it, knowing she'd never get all the pieces back. The things she does and doesn't understand about love. She writes about the fear of not knowing what comes next.

It's cathartic, just like Taylor said it would be. Miley thinks it's to her friend's credit that she doesn't say I told you so.

John's the one that brings up the idea of doing something more. They're in the living room at Taylor's, Miley at the piano and Taylor sitting on the floor with her guitar. John wanders into the room from their home studio, flops down on the floor next to his wife.

"You two should make a record," he says.

Miley snaps her head towards him, certain that he must be kidding. He has a completely serious expression on his face. She shakes her head. "No way." She looks at Taylor, who looks far too intrigued by the idea. "No."

"I don't know," Taylor says thoughtfully. "It's kind of a really good idea, don't you think?" She looks at John. "You think it could work?"

Before he can answer, Miley says, "_I_ don't think it can work. Me, the person you've been writing the songs with. Not him."

They both ignore her.

John nods. "Maybe a digital EP or something? I know you've been wanting to do something different for awhile now." He shrugs. "This is different. And it's good."

Taylor has a faraway look in her eyes. "A digital release... Oh, I like that. Maybe a limited edition run of cds for sale at concerts or something."

"Concerts?" Miley repeats. "You've already got us doing concerts?"

Taylor finally looks at her. "Of course I do."

"Did it happen to escape your attention that I didn't agree to any of this? Not recording or selling anything or giving concerts or anything!"

"You didn't ever actually agree to write with me either," Taylor points out. "I said you had to and you kept opening the door when I showed up."

"And that was clearly a mistake!"

Taylor shakes her head. "It really wasn't. And Miles, I won't actually force you into doing something like this. Because this would be different."

"Thank heaven for small favors," Miley mutters under her breath.

Taylor ignores that and keeps going. "But we should do this. What we're working on, it's good. You have to know that. And you love to perform, even if you're pretending that part of you doesn't exist right now. Eventually you're going to want to do something like this again, and what better way than with one of your best friends by your side?"

"I'm reconsidering the 'one of my best friends' part," Miley says, trying to look mad. The thing of it is, she's not sure if she is mad. It does sort of feel like things are spinning out of her control again, like she has no say in her life, and wasn't that part of what she ran away from Los Angeles to get back? And she doesn't know if she's ready to share everything she's just figuring out with the world; it's as if the wounds of the past are finally starting to heal over, and now Taylor wants her to start picking at the scabs. She doesn't know if she wants the scars that would follow. But oh, part of it does sound fun. She does miss the rush of performing, of touching people in that way, of letting them touch her.

"I need to think about it," she says.

Taylor grins. Just for that, Miley keeps her waiting an extra two days after her decision's made. She says yes.

  
_I'm alone but I'm not lonely  
I'm with the only person that knows me  
I'm armed with my guitar and I'm armed  
With emotional scars  
And my journey is underway_

~ Jason Manns, Journey

In March, Nick goes to visit Joe and Demi in New York. When Joe called to issue the invitiation, Nick assumed it was for some sort of drunken debauchery for St. Patrick's Day, the kind of thing they never got to do when they were teenagers or when they should have been in college. So Nick's more than a little surprised when Joe shows up bright and early at his hotel room and drags him to Tiffany's.

As they wander around the store, Joe peering anxiously into display cases, Nick keeps looking at him and saying, "Now? Really?"

After the fifth or so time, Joe punches him in the arm and says in an exasperated voice, "Yes, now. Really. Why is this so hard to believe?"

"I don't know, because you've been promising Mom and Dad you were going to get married since you moved in together, what, two years ago?" Nick shrugs. "I figured you were going to spend the rest of your lives living in sin."

Joe raises his eyebrows. "Living in sin? Don't knock it 'til you've tried it, Nicky boy."

Nick snorts. "I wish."

Joe stops, looks at him. "Really? Then why haven't you let Demi set you up with anyone for the last few months? Kind of hard to live in sin solo."

"Because Demi and I do not agree on what types of women I should be dating." Nick shrugs uncomfortably. "Shouldn't we be focused on picking out a ring, not my lack of a love life?"

"Yes." Joe steps towards one of the cases and addresses the salesperson. "Excuse me?"

The woman turns towards them, polite smile firmly in place. "Yes, can I help you?"

Joe gives her the smile that lets him get away with murder, and Nick just barely manages to stop himself from rolling his eyes. "I have an appointment to look at rings at ten o'clock. Could you point me in the right direction?"

"Of course," she says. "If I could just get your name?"

"Jonas. Joe Jonas."

"Just a moment, Mr. Jonas."

She turns her back to place a call and Nick rolls his eyes at his brother. "Really, you think you're Bond now?"

"I think I'd be a great Bond," Joe says. "If it weren't for the whole not being British thing." He strokes his chin thoughtfully. "Do you think they'd let me do it if I worked on my accent?"

Nick's saved from answering by the salesperson.

"Mr. Jonas?" she says. "If you could just follow me, please."

She leads them to a private show room in the back of the store, where there's already a manager waiting for them. They shake hands and sit down to begin discussing what exactly Joe's looking for. As Joe launches into a description, Nick zones out. In a million years, he never would have guessed that Joe would get married before him. Somewhere in his head, Joe is still the goofy older brother that was never going to grow up. Nick doesn't know when Joe stopped being that person.

He's left to wonder who he's become without even knowing it.

***

After ring shopping they head to a bar. It's probably too early to be drinking, but if any situation calls for it, Nick figures buying an engagement ring is it.

They have the place mostly to themselves and they sit side by side at the bar in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Finally Nick looks at his brother and asks, "Why now?"

Joe looks at him and shrugs. "I don't know," he says slowly. "It just feels like now is the right time." He shrugs again. "She's the right girl, she's always been the right girl."

Nick nods and takes a drink. He envies Joe that, the knowing that it's the right girl at the right time. He wants that for himself more than he can say. More than he wants to think about.

He knows who that girl is for him. He doesn't know if it will ever be the right time.

"Nick, what's been going on with you lately?"

He blinks and looks sideways at Joe, who's looking back at him with worry on his face. "I don't know what you mean."

Joe sighs. "Yes, you do. Something, I don't know what, has been going on with you for months. You're not talking to me, you're not talking to Demi, or to Kevin. _Talk_ to me. In a non-girly kind of way."

He knows Joe is right. He does. But he doesn't know how to explain it. So he asks the question that he hasn't let himself ask anyone. "How's Miley?"

Joe blinks. Blinks again. A slow grin spreads across his face. "Miley?" he asks incredulously. "Miley? Is that what this has been about?"

"No," Nick denies.

Joe gives him a look.

"Part of it. Maybe. A very small part."

Joe gives him the look again. "Nicholas."

"I hate you so much," Nick groans, thumping his head down against the cool wood of the bar. He thinks he'll just stay here for the rest of his life. It has to be better than the alternative.

"You're the one that brought it up," Joe points out gleefully.

Nick's head shoots up. "I did not!"

"I asked you what was wrong with you. _You_ are the one that brought Miley into it."

"I didn't mean it -- I didn't mean it like that," Nick protests, with a sigh. He knows he's fighting a losing battle, Joe won't let go of something like this. He tries anyway. "Are you going to answer my question?"

Joe opens his mouth. Closes it. He gives Nick a sheepish look. "What _was_ your question? I may have gotten kind of distracted."

Nick can't help it, he rolls his eyes. "How's Miley?"

"Right," Joe says, nodding his head. "Miley. She's good, man. Better. I mean, she seems happier. Demi says that she and Taylor are writing together."

Now that's interesting, Nick thinks. As far as he knows, Miley hasn't written in years. He'd always wondered why she stopped. He wonders what's changed. "Really?"

Joe nods again. "Yeah, Dem says she sounds really good. More like Miley." He raises his eyebrows at Nick. "Now. You're going to tell me just why you're so interested in our friend Miss Miley."

"I wouldn't call her my friend," Nick hedges, taking another drink. They were never friends, not really. It was just a lie they told to themselves. He shakes his head. "I don't know. I've just been thinking a lot about her lately. About what Demi said back at Thanksgiving, about her not being happy."

"Are you happy?"

Sometimes Nick forgets just how perceptive Joe is. He looks at his brother. "Honestly?"

Joe nods.

"I don't know."

"Well," Joe says slowly. "Let me know when you figure it out."

They finish their drinks in silence and leave, Nick heading back to his hotel and Joe to the apartment he and Demi share. When they all meet up for dinner that night, it's as if none of it was ever said.

Nick figures he owes Joe a pretty huge favor for that.

***

He flies back to Chicago the next day. Now that he's done what he didn't even realize he was there to do, he doesn't much see the point in sticking around. And much as he loves his brother and Demi, being around all that unadulterated happiness isn't what he needs right now.

The first thing he does when he gets home is head to his piano. He thinks it's time to start figuring things out.

###

Once Miley agrees to Taylor's crazy scheme, she learns about a whole other side of her friend. Taylor may wear her heart on her sleeve, but underneath it all is a smart and savvy business woman with an iron will. From there, it's pretty easy to figure out how exactly Taylor took over the music industry before her twentieth birthday.

As far as people to have in your corner, Miley decides there's no one better. That doesn't mean she doesn't learn to avoid Taylor when she's got that look in her eyes. The tire tracks from being run over during one of her moods teaches her that.

But really, it all seems surprisingly easy. So much easier than Miley remembers.

They record in John and Taylor's studio, John producing for them. Taylor calls in favors from her friends in Nashville to get people to sit in for sessions. There's no rush, so a blown take isn't the end of the world, but a chance to see if they can make something better. Miley learns to love the process of making music again; she remembers why before acting or anything else, music was her first love.

Making this record with Taylor is a sort of healing that Miley hadn't even known she needed.

***

Miley's more than willing to turn most of the details over to Taylor, but the one thing she insists on an equal say in is the band's name.

After a month of endless debating and absolutely no progress, Miley thinks that if she'd known how hard making that decision was going to be, she might have turned that decision over to Taylor, too.

Nothing sounds right. They start by trying to come up with ways to combine their names, awful things like Swift Hope or Cyrus &amp; Swift, but quickly realize that nothing good can come of heading in that direction. That way lies portmanteaus and them being called "Maylor" and they'd just rather not open up that particular can of worms. Why give the internet fodder for free? They should at least have to work for it. (Miley's at least sort of looking forward to the rumors that she's responsible for the breakdown of John and Taylor's marriage, though. She hasn't been called a home wrecking slut in ages.)

The name comes to her in the shower. She's rinsing shampoo out of her hair when suddenly she knows exactly what they should call themselves. She freezes; can it really have been this simple all along? The soap drips into her eyes. "Goddammit," she yelps, blinking furiously. She finishes rinsing, turns off the water, wraps herself in a towel. She drips water all over the the floor as she walks into her bedroom to grab her phone.

She dials Taylor's number. Waits.

Taylor answers. "Hello?"

"The Second."

There's a pause. "Excuse me?"

"The Second," Miley says again.

"I'm still not sure I understand."

"As a band name," Miley explains impatiently. "What do you think?"

"Oh," Taylor says, injecting a wealth of meaning into the one syllable. "Oh."

"Good oh or bad oh?"

"Good oh. That's _perfect_. I love it."

Miley exhales. "Oh, thank god. Now I have to go. We'll talk later."

She hangs up over Taylor's protests, lets herself flop down on her unmade bed for just a minute. She smiles.

***

Taylor presents their first concert to Miley as a fait accompli. The club is booked, publicity handled, backing band arranged, invitations to friends issued. When Taylor tells her about it, Miley's sure her mouth hangs open for a good five minutes. As furious as she is with Taylor in that moment, she can also see the genius in doing it this way. Miley's sure that if Taylor hadn't done this, she would have found a way to get out of it.

Well, she would have tried to find a way to get out of it. She doesn't actually think Taylor would have let her.

But as they start getting ready for the show, rehearsing with the band, finalizing the set list, the songs themselves, Miley can't help but think about the last time she was onstage. It wasn't anything like this is going to be, a relatively intimate club show with a pretty select guest list and limited ticket sales. It was an arena full of people singing her songs and dancing, and Miley remembers feeling absolutely no fear as she stepped out onto the stage.

Now she's terrified. Terrified that no one will like what they're doing, that she'll freeze up and not remember the words to their songs, that she doesn't remember how to do this. And maybe she doesn't, she's never played a show like this one before. A roomful of people scares her more than a packed arena.

Or maybe it's just one person. Taylor tried to hide the guest list from her, but Miley finagled a copy from John. On a list full of names, Nick's was the only one she could see.

She doesn't know if she's more scared that he will come or if he won't. He shouldn't still make her feel like this, she knows that. She doesn't think about what that means either.

###

Nick gets the invitation in the mail on a Tuesday afternoon. It's in a thick cream colored envelope, the kind he associates with wedding invitations. He dumps the rest of his mail on his kitchen table and looks at it carefully, trying to remember which of his friends is getting married. He decides this one must be from David and Selena and opens it, curious to see if he's right. When he draws the card out of the envelope and reads it, he can't believe his eyes. It is most definitely not an invitation to David and Selena's wedding. He drops the card to the table.

He picks it back up, reads it again, sure that his eyes are playing tricks on him. But the words don't change no matter how many times he reads them.

_One Night Only_, it reads. _The debut of Taylor Swift and Miley Cyrus as The Second._ There's a date and time and place, but it's the first two lines he cares about.

He has a million questions, but what he most wants to know is this: what does the invitation mean?

Does it mean that Miley is ready to put whatever happened between them in the past? Does she want to start over? Does it even mean that she wants him there or was he invited because it was polite?

There's only one thing to do if he wants answers; he calls Demi.

He dials her number and waits, restlessly tapping the invitation against the edge of the kitchen table. He feels really weird, almost anxious in a way he hasn't been for years. He knows it's because of Miley. She's always been able to make him feel this way. Apparently it doesn't go away with age.

"Nick!" Demi answers loudly. "What's up?"

"Demetria," he says, leaning back in his chair. He sets the invitation down on the table.

"Uh oh," she says. "Am I in trouble?"

"That depends." He picks the invitation back up. "Is there anything you want to tell me?"

"I really don't think so."

"Maybe something about a friend of ours?" he prompts and waits. He can almost hear the penny drop.

"Oh," she says. "Miley and Taylor's thing. You got your invite?"

He nods, even though she can't see him. "I did."

"Isn't it awesome?" Demi asks brightly. Too brightly. Demi doesn't do bright. Which means Nick was right about her knowing what was going on and not telling him. "I think they're going to be amazing, you're going to come, right?"

"I don't know," he says. "Does Miley actually want me there?"

"What?" Demi says, sounding baffled. "Why would you --?"

He cuts her off. "I don't know."

There's a long pause. He doesn't know what he's thinking, what he's feeling, why he's saying any of this. He thought he'd started to figure things out, decided that whatever feelings for Miley that had been dredged up were firmly in the past. That it was just concern for an old friend and his own quarterlife crisis. But now, now, he just doesn't know. He hates not knowing.

"Nick."

He bites back the groan, there's something in her voice that he doesn't like. "Yes?"

"Is it maybe possible -- just maybe, mind you -- that you still have a little thing for Miley?"

He has a second to decide. Tell the truth or tell a lie. He knows Demi will know either way. He takes a deep breath. "Yes."

He hangs up the phone. For now, it's all the honesty he can stand.

***

He goes to Nashville for the show. He argued with himself about it for a few days, but he always knew he was going to go. He's never really been able to say no to anything where Miley's concerned. Why would it be any different now?

Joe picks him up at the airport, since he and Demi flew out a few days earlier. Something about girl time, Nick's not sure. He's been avoiding talking to Demi since the call where she asked him about Miley, and Joe's not always the most reliable of sources.

They don't really talk much on the way to the hotel, just scattered random chatter about the Yankees and the scripts Joe's reading and what they're going to get their mom for her birthday. It's nice, relaxing. Even though he's been tense for days, Nick can actually feel it seeping out of him. Maybe he was nervous for no reason, maybe it will all be fine.

He thinks that for about ten seconds. Then Joe says, clear out of the blue, "So you do still have a thing for Miley."

Nick's jaw actually drops. It's one of those things that he always thought only happens in movies, but nope. It's a real thing. He cuts his eyes sideways at his brother. "What? Where did --"

Joe shakes his head. "Don't even try to deny it, I have an unimpeachable source."

"You mean Demi," Nick says flatly. He's going to kill her for that later. Really, he is.

Joe has the grace to look slightly guilty. "Don't be mad at her. We're almost engaged. We talk. It's what couples do." He gives Nick a pointed look. "Maybe you'd remember that if you actually had a girlfriend once in awhile. Oh wait, you don't want just any girlfriend. You want Miley."

Nick sighs. He could deny it, but what would be the point? One of Joe's more annoying traits is his ability to know when Nick is lying. Nick's always sort of hated that about his brother. "Yes."

"You admitted it," Joe says with surprise. "I didn't think you'd admit it."

Nick shrugs. Maybe if he stops answering questions, Joe will stop asking them.

Of course that doesn't happen. "So when are you going to act like a man and do something about it?"

He snorts. He's not answering that. If he did answer that, it would immediately get back to Demi who would feel the need to share it with Miley and if and when he decides to do something about it, he wants the element of surprise. It might be the only advantage he has.

Joe keeps talking, but Nick tunes him out. He needs to think. And a drink. He really hopes this hotel has a bar. He has a feeling he and the bartender are about to become very good friends.

###

Miley's not really sure how it happened, but somehow she's hosting a grown up version of a sleep over. It's the night before the show and she's stressed beyond belief, but she doesn't even have time to think about it. Which now that she thinks about it, is maybe why Taylor showed up on her doorstep, Demi and Selena in tow. She takes a sip of the fruity drink that Demi shoved into her hand and watches Selena paint Taylor's toenails. She tries to remember the last time she had a night like this. She thinks it might have been around the time she stopped wearing braces. It's been far too long.

Demi looks up from the shelf of movies Miley keeps next to the television. "Miley, you have really crappy taste, you know that?"

"Says you."

"Of course says me," Demi retorts. "I"m the one that said it."

Miley laughs and gets up off the couch to join her. "What are you looking for?"

Demi shrugs and elbows her in the side. "Something with lots of blood. Why don't you have anything like that?"

"No blood," Taylor interjects. "I'm not really in the mood for a slasher movie. It's always the blonde that dies first."

"You're going to make me watch some drippy chick flick, aren't you?" Demi groans.

Selena looks back over her shoulder at Demi. "We are girls."

"That doesn't mean we have to be those kind of girls."

"If anyone should be protesting a chick flick it should be me," Miley points out. She points a finger at Demi. "Boyfriend." She turns the finger on Selena. "Engaged." At Taylor. "Married." She points it back at herself. "Very, very single."

Demi, Selena, and Taylor trade looks.

Miley narrows her eyes. "I saw that."

"Saw what?" Demi asks innocently. She grabs a movie off the shelf, pushes it into Miley's hands. "Let's watch this."

Miley doesn't even look down to see what it is. She knows bad acting when she sees it. "No."

"A movie sounds like a great idea," Taylor pipes up from her spot on the floor. She wiggles her toes in admiration. "Who wants popcorn? I think popcorn sounds like a great idea."

"Me, too," Selena adds, capping the bottle of nail polish.

"You mean you want me to go make popcorn so that you can all get your stories straight," Miley says, crossing her arms over her chest and trying to look threatening. It doesn't work.

Taylor just smiles at her. "Yes. So get out of here, would you?"

Miley blinks. She hadn't actually expected them to _admit_ that's what they were up to. "Fine." She stalks out of the living room and into the kitchen. She doesn't even want to know anwyay.

Except she does. A lot. She hates her friends.

***

When she comes back from the kitchen, large bowls of popcorn in hand, they've already started the movie. Demi's on the couch, feet tucked up underneath her. Taylor and Selena are on the floor, Selena stretched out on her stomach, Taylor leaning back against the couch. They look far too pleased with themselves.

Miley dumps the bowls of popcorn on the coffee table and grabs the remote. She presses pause. "Talk."

Selena rolls over with a sigh, sits up. She draws her knees up against her chest and rests her chin on them. "I told you."

"Shhhhhhh," Demi hisses. She gives Miley a bright smile. "There's nothing to talk about. Unless it's how much better this movie would be with some zombies. Why don't they make romantic comedies with zombies? Isn't that like, the perfect crossover appeal? You'd get both guys and girls and --"

"Demi," Taylor says, patting her on the knee. "Take a breath."

Demi does.

Taylor looks up at Miley. "It's not what you think."

"How do you know what I'm thinking?" Miley counters. She's not actually sure what she thinks they're keeping from her, so how could they? But they don't need to know that. She tries to look menacing. "Talk."

"It's about Nick," Selena says from her spot on the floor. At Demi and Taylor's incredulous looks, she shrugs. "What? We're not teenagers anymore. I have a fiance. I can't say Nick's name?"

"You can say his name," Miley says, distraction in her voice. She fixes her stare on Demi and Taylor. "Nick?"

The two of them trade glances, and Demi sighs. "I wasn't sure if I should tell you."

"Tell me what?"

"That I sort of maybe kind of tricked Nick into admitting that he still has feelings for you," Demi says quickly, running the words together so they all sound like one. "Are you mad?"

Miley sinks down onto the couch next to Demi. There's a strange sort of buzzing in her ears and she can't quite catch her breath. She's not mad -- she knows that. But she doesn't know what she is beyond that. She certainly didn't think that's what they were talking about, keeping from her. If she'd known, she doesn't think she would have asked. Or maybe she would have. She can't think.

"Miley?" Taylor says worriedly, resting her hand on Miley's ankle. "Are you okay?" She looks back at Demi. "See, this is why I didn't want to tell her."

"I didn't want to tell her either," Demi squeaks. She points a finger at Selena. "She's the one that actually said it. Blame her."

Selena holds up her hands. "Don't even think about blaming me. I am an innocent bystander. A morbidly fascinated one, mind you, but totally innocent."

"Innocent, my ass," Demi snorts. She scoots closer to Miley on the couch, waving a hand in front of her face. "Miley? Are you okay?"

Miley grabs her hand. "I can hear you, you know." She shakes her head. "I am -- I am not okay." She shakes her head again. "I don't understand."

"What don't you understand?" Demi asks.

Miley shrugs helplessly. "Any of it. All of it. Nick still has -- why were you even -- did everyone --"

"One question at a time, sweetie," Taylor says. "Now. Was the first one, Nick still has feelings for me?"

Miley nods. It's all she can really do. She concentrates on making sure she's still breathing.

"I think that one is all yours," Taylor says, looking up at Demi. "Try not to make her catatonic, okay? I need her onstage tomorrow night."

"Nice priorities there, Taylor," Selena says, grabbing handful of popcorn.

"Anyway," Demi says loudly. She takes Miley's hand and looks at her with the closest thing Miley's ever seen to an earnest expression on her face. "This isn't some huge conspiracy or anything, I swear. It's just -- Nick's been mopey for months. Since around the time you started making plans to move back here, actually. And not that long ago, when he called to see if you actually wanted him to come to the concert --"

"I didn't even know he'd been invited," Miley tries to interject, but Demi just blows past her.

"-- and I finally called him on it."

"Called him on what, exactly?"

"Still being in love with you, silly."

Miley sits up straighter. There's no way she heard Demi right. Nick wouldn't just say that. He wouldn't. "He _said_ that?"

Demi bites her lip. "Well, not in so many words. But it was implied. Strongly implied. Also, he hung up right after he said it and has been avoiding my calls ever since. So I'm pretty sure that's what he meant."

"Is anyone else getting flashbacks to what high school might have been like if we'd actually gone?" Selena asks. Three blank faces look back at her. She shrugs and takes more popcorn. "Just me then."

The buzzing noise is back in Miley's ears and this time she's pretty sure that she's actually going to pass out. She most definitely did not expect this. She doesn't believe this. Nick's not still in love with her. She would know if Nick were still in love with her. She would know, even if they haven't spoken in over two years. Haven't been together in six. She would know. It's Nick. She would know. She believes this, absolutely.

She's afraid of how much she wants to believe this.

She shakes her head, tries to clear it. "You're wrong," she says, looking at Demi. "I appreciate it, what you're trying to do, really I do, but you're wrong. Nick's not still in love with me."

"Can I say something?" Selena asks.

"No," Taylor and Demi say in unison. They look at each other and frown.

"That was creepy," Taylor says.

"And I'm going to say it anyway," Selena says. She looks directly at Miley. "Nick has never, in his life, stopped being in love with you. Nobody knows that better than me."

Miley shakes her head again. "You're wrong."

Selena raises an eyebrow. "About the cause of every break up I ever had with Nick? I don't really think so, but I'd like to hear you try to convince me otherwise."

"No," Miley says, flustered. "I mean, I hope that's not true, but I mean about now. Do you guys even know how long it's been?"

They all nod.

Miley frowns. She really doesn't appreciate being ganged up on like this. Especially not in her own home. "I can still make you all go back to the hotel."

"We'll stop," Taylor says. "Demi, get her another drink." She takes Miley's hand. Squeezes it. "Just think about what we said, okay? Just think about it. We just want you to be happy, Miles."

"I was happier not thinking about that," Miley counters. She was. Maybe. Probably. She's not going to sleep at all tonight, she knows that.

"Mmhm," Taylor says knowingly, squeezing her hand one more time and then letting go. "Demi, that drink?"

Another drink is pressed into Miley's hand and someone starts the movie again. Miley sips her drink and tries to focus on the screen in front of her, but she's fighting a losing battle. The same four words keep echoing through her mind, and she's helpless to stop them.

_Nick still loves me._

She's never wanted something to be true so badly before in her entire life. She wishes she could believe that it was.

She just doesn't have that kind of luck.

###

The club is packed for the show. Nick's not quite sure what he expected, but it wasn't this. Maybe it should have been, though, he doesn't know. He's looking around for Joe and Demi, but it's impossible to spot them in the crowd. He knew he should have left with them. This is what he gets for acting like a teenage girl getting ready for her first date. Well, what he assumes a teenage girl getting ready for her first date is like. He doesn't actually have any experience with that.

Someone claps him on the shoulder. "Upstairs," Joe says into Nick's ear.

He turns his head just a fraction and Joe jerks his head towards a staircase Nick hadn't seen. Nick nods and follows Joe out of the crowd and up the stairs. It's only a little less crowded and a little less quiet, but Nick will take it. He nods hello to John as he joins the group clustered around a tall table, shaking David's hand and pressing a quick kiss to Selena's cheek. "Where's Demi?" he asks, taking the beer that Joe passes him.

"Backstage," Joe answers, pouring another glass and handing it to David. "Miley was nervous, I think."

"It's been a long time," Nick says as neutrally as he can. "I can't blame her." He doesn't miss the 'I told you so' look that Selena gives David, but he decides to let it pass. It's too early for that. He takes a drink.

"She'll be fine," Selena says breezily. "It's Miley. She's always fine." An impish grin breaks out on her face. "I'd rather talk about Nick."

Nick chokes a little on his beer. "Me?" he splutters, coughing. "What about me?"

"Oh, you know. The usual. What you've been up to, stuff like that. I haven't seen you in ages."

That's true. But it feels like she's asking something else. Nick's just not sure what that something else is. "Nothing that exciting." He tries to change the subject. "How about the two of you? How are the wedding plans going?"

"Well done," David says. He wraps an arm around Selena's shoulders. "Leave Nick alone. You can play spy another time."

Selena's lower lip slides out into a pout. "That's not what I was going."

David just looks at her.

"Well, okay, maybe I was, but --" She's cut off when David kisses her. Nick's always liked David.

When the kiss edges past the limits of acceptable public display of affection, Nick turns his attention to John. "So are they ready for this?"

John nods. "They should be good, man. They both know what they're doing." He laughs a little, almost to himself. "I think you'll be very, well, interested."

There's most definitely something in his tone of voice that Nick doesn't like. "Interested, how?"

The lights start to dim. Nick doesn't get his answer.

###

Miley stands in the wings, guitar in hand, totally oblivious to the chaos around her. She can't do this. She doesn't know what she was thinking. This was a terrible idea, why did she let Taylor talk her into it? She doesn't remember the words to the songs, how to sing, how to play guitar, any of it. She's going to get on stage and have hundreds of people laugh at her.

She never should have agreed to this. She wonders if it's too late to back out. Even Taylor wouldn't make her sing if she threw up, right?

"Yes, I would," Taylor says from behind her.

Miley almost jumps out of her skin. "What the --" she starts, snapping her head around to see Taylor's laughing face. "Was I talking outloud?"

"Yes," Taylor confirms. She pats Miley on the shoulder. "You aren't getting out of this, even if you puke. And you can do this. Really, you can."

"No, I can't," Miley says, shaking her head. Now she really does feel like she's going to be sick. Or pass out. She's not really sure which. "I just can't."

"You can."

"Can't."

"Can." Taylor grabs her hand. "Look at me."

Miley does what she says, because she really doen't have a choice in the matter. Taylor's got a deathgrip on her hand and somehow Miley doesn't think that if she manages to break her fingers she'll get out of going on stage either.

"Take a deep breath."

She does.

"Now let it out -- slowly."

She does.

"Repeat after me."

Miley looks at her skeptically. Breathing is one thing, but this isn't really her kind of thing.

"Miley," Taylor warns. "Do it."

"Fine, fine."

"Good. Now, repeat after me. I can do this."

"I can do this."

"I am going to knock everyone's socks off."

Miley groans, but obeys. "I am going to knock everyone's socks off."

"I believe I am going to knock everyone's socks off."

"Honestly, Taylor?" Miley groans. "Enough."

Taylor opens her mouth and Miley gives her a look, a look that very clearly means that she's done, and Taylor's mouth snaps shut. She nods. "Okay. So. Are you ready?"

Miley sighs, steels herself. "As ready as I'm going to be."

"In that case..." Taylor drawls. She gives someone the high sign and the lights dim. "This is it!" She starts to drag Miley towards the stage, but Miley digs her heels in.

"Before we go out there," she says in a rush. "I just -- I just --"

Taylor's eyebrows go up.

"Thank you," Miley says finally. "I know I'm being ridiculous and a nut case right now, but thank you."

Taylor grins. "It was my pleasure. Now come on!"

In the dark, they make their way onto the stage. Miley takes the stool on the left, Taylor the one on the right. Miley takes another deep breath, looks at Taylor. Nods. Taylor signals the band. The drummer starts, playing a steady beat. Then the piano comes in. Taylor starts to play her guitar. The lights come up.

This is it. Miley leans forward and starts to sing.

###

They're good. Nick's not really sure why he's surprised by this. He's always thought Miley was one of the most talented people he knows and Taylor, much as he hasn't always liked Taylor as a person, he's always respected her talent. Nick's always thought that was more important. So he doesn't know why he's surprised.

But he is and it seems like everyone else is, too, from the way everyone around the table is half grinning, half staring at the stage with mouths hanging open. Selena's almost dancing in David's arms and Demi's doing the same thing, except Joe's dancing with her, and Nick's not even sure where Demi came from. The only one that doesn't look in the least bit surprised is John and he's had a front row seat to all of this, and Nick's pretty sure that was an unfair advantage.

The first break is three songs into their set. Everyone on stage guzzles water and Taylor leans forward to the microphone. "How're y'all doing tonight?" she asks.

The cheers are almost deafening. Nick lets himself smile. He's really happy for Miley that this is going so well. She deserves this.

On stage, Taylor continues charming the audience. "I'm Taylor," she says. "And this is my friend, Miley. We're so glad you all came out to see us tonight. Now, if you all don't mind, we were hoping to play a cover. Is that okay?"

More cheers. Taylor has really gotten good at this over the years, Nick muses to himself. It's impressive.

"That's good," she says. "Because we were going to do it anyway." She laughs and nods, and a guitar starts to play. It's a slower, almost dreamier song than what came before. It's definitely more country, twangier. Taylor sings the first lines and there's scattered cheering. Clearly someone in the audience knows the song. Nick doesn't recognize it, though. It's another thing that doesn't surprise him.

Miley joins Taylor for the chorus, singing about strawberry wine and first love and being seventeen and there's a pang in Nick's chest. They fell in love long before they were seventeen, but he knows that feeling. Misses that feeling. He tries to read the look on Miley's face. He wants her to miss that feeling, too.

She sings the next verse. When she gets to the words, "_we drifted away like leaves in the fall_," Nick sees what he's looking for. There's a longing there that he knows has to be written all over his own face. He makes his way to the railing to get a better look.

There's another chorus. Taylor joins in and sings harmony.

Then the band falls away and it's just Miley singing the bridge, a guitar softly strumming in the background. "_The fields have grown over now_," she sings. "_Years since they've seen a plow. There's nothing time hasn't touched._"

Nick wills her to look up. To see him, in this moment. For them to see each other. She looks up.

Their eyes meet, catch. She sings the next lines, looking straight up at him. "_Is it really him or the loss of my innocence, I've been missing so much_?"

The words hang there for just a split second before the drums kick back in and Taylor adds her voice to the words of the chorus. Miley looks away. Nick clutches the railing in front of him.

The song ends. The audience cheers some more. Nick tries to stop his heart from beating out of his chest. He knows he didn't imagine that. That was what a stupid romantic comedy would call a moment. He knows he's not supposed to take those for granted.

He doesn't want to take it for granted. He just doesn't know what to do next. So for now, he'll listen to them sing.

###

They segue straight into the next song, but it's one that Taylor mostly sings lead on and Miley's suddenly really grateful for that. She can't quite catch her breath and she knows it's not from all the singing.

It's Nick. It's the way Nick was looking at her, with regret and wonder and god, she thinks it might have been longing, all rolled into one and now she can't breathe. If there was a worse time to not be able to breathe, Miley's not sure what it could possibly be.

She leans towards the microphone to sing a harmony on the chorus, and it's all muscle memory. If someone asked her the lyrics to the song right now, she wouldn't know them, but somehow she doesn't miss a word. The hours and hours of rehearsal that Taylor insisted on were worth it after all.

Now she just has to hope she can make it through the rest of the show by doing the exact same thing. That's not impossible, is it? She doesn't actually let herself answer that question.

For the rest of the night, she doesn't look up toward the balcony.

***

When they've played their last song, encore and all, Miley bolts for backstage. Even without looking at him, she could feel Nick's eyes on her for the rest of the night. She hasn't been that hyper aware of anyone else in forever, probably since the last time she and Nick were together. Hyper awareness was always part of their relationship.

She leans back against a wall and tries to catch her breath. Just because they had a moment while she was on stage, doesn't mean anything, she tells herself. Maybe it wasn't even a moment. Maybe it was all in her head. Nick probably didn't even realize what was going on.

Her attempts at rationalization are cut off by Taylor wrapping her up in a hug and squealing in her ear.

"We did it!" she exclaims. Miley can feel the happiness radiating through her limbs. She can't help but smile and hug Taylor back. Taylor's joy is infectious and Miley knows better than to resist.

Taylor draws back, looks at Miley critically. "You're happy, right? Just _listen_ to them, Miles. They loved us." She shakes Miley's shoulders. "Be happy!"

Miley laughs, nods. "I'm happy, I promise." She's just a lot of other things, too, confused being first on the list.

"Good," Taylor says. "I'd have to get rough with you otherwise."

Miley arches an eyebrow, looking at her speculatively. "Really?" she drawls. "Does your husband know you're into that sort of thing?"

Taylor winks. "Wouldn't you like to know." She grabs Miley's hand. "Come on, let's go change and by then, the place should have emptied out enough for us to go see our adoring public."

"This is one of those things I don't really have a choice in, isn't it?" Miley asks as she trails along behind Taylor.

Taylor doesn't break stride as she nods and Miley laughs and trails in her wake. She'll worry about the rest of it later. It's not like Taylor's going to let her do anything else.

She'll never tell Taylor, but Miley's pretty grateful for that.

###

Once the show is over and the lights come up, the crowd on the main level starts to thin out. Nick watches the people head toward the exits for a few minutes and then makes his way back toward the table where everyone else is drinking and laughing.

"Nick!" Joe says. "So nice you could join us." He waggles his eyebrows. "Did you enjoy the show?"

Nick rolls his eyes. There's really nothing else he can do, not when Joe is in this kind of mood.

Demi elbows Joe in the ribs for him. "Shut up," she orders. She turns to focus on Nick. "But did you?"

He nods cautiously. "They were -- they were really good."

Selena raises her eyebrows at him. "Really good? That's it?"

"They were excellent," he amends. He's not really sure when Selena became Miley's biggest fan. It's kind of creeping him out. He looks at John. "You were right."

John nods. "I know." He looks around the table at the half full drinks. "I'm going to go order champagne for when they get up here."

"Oh, that's an awesome idea," Selena says. She tilts her head up to look at David. "How come you never have ideas like that?"

"You threaten to hurt me when I have ideas like that," David points out. "You remember how I proposed, right?"

Even in the half dark, Nick can see Selena's cheeks turn pink. "Good point," she says quickly. "John, do you need any help with the champagne?"

"No, that's --" John starts to say, but Selena interrupts.

"Great!" She takes David's hand and starts dragging him toward the bar. David shrugs silently at them as Selena leads him away.

Nick laughs. Then he realizes something. "Did he say they're coming up here?"

Demi nods. "Duh."

He can't help it, he panics. He's not quite ready to see Miley, to talk to her. Maybe that makes him a chicken. He's okay with that. "I should go."

"What? No, you shouldn't," Demi says. She elbows Joe again. "Tell Nick he's not allowed to leave."

"You're not allowed to leave," Joe parrots, rolling his eyes at Demi as he says it. He looks at Nick. "But really, you can't leave."

Nick shakes his head. "I can't see --"

"Can't see who?" a new voice says from behind them.

Nick freezes. He'd know that voice anywhere. He hears that voice in his head, in his dreams. He makes himself count to three before he turns around, hoping it will help steady himself.

It doesn't work.

When he turns around and looks, the rest of the room fades away. There's no noise, no crowd, just them. Miley's standing there in front of him, looking like something out of one of his best dreams. Her blue eyes shine like a light that's burning just for him. He's lost.

Someone coughs, he blinks the room back into focus. Miley's still standing there, looking at him expectantly. He takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly.

"Hi."

_Okay, so I was wrong about  
My reasons for us fallin' out  
Of love I want to fall back in_

My life is different now I swear  
I know now what it means to care  
About somebody other than myself

I know the things I said to you  
They were untender and untrue  
I'd like to see those things undo

So if you could find it in your heart  
To give a man a second start  
I promise things won't end the same

~ The Avett Brothers, Shame

Something wakes Miley up out of a dead sleep. She shoots straight up in bed and looks around the room with blurry eyes, trying to figure out what the noise is. She glances down at her nightstand and sees the alarm clock and the source of the offender. Her cell phone. Of course it's her phone. Never mind that she didn't get home until after four and it's only just past seven. Someone is going to die.

She grabs the phone, answers it just to make it stop. "Hello?" she groans. flopping back down onto her pillows and draping her other arm over her eyes to keep out the sun.

"Miley!" Taylor's voice says. She sounds almost chipper. It's disgusting.

"This better be good."

"Come over for breakfast."

Miley lifts her arm and looks at the alarm clock again. Blinks. "What, now?"

"Of course now, why else would I be calling now?"

"Have you slept at all?" Miley asks, dropping her arm back over her eyes. She yawns.

"Actually --" Taylor starts.

"Wait, wait, don't answer that," Miley says hurriedly. "I don't want a story about how much sex you had last night or anything."

"Breakfast, Miley Ray," Taylor orders. "I'm going to make Demi and Selena come over, too, and we'll read our reviews and talk."

"Talk?" Miley has a very bad feeling about this. A very, very bad feeling about this.

"See you in an hour!" Taylor chirps and then there's silence on the other end of the line.

Miley groans and rolls over onto her stomach, burying her face in the pillows. It's pointless to resist, she knows this. If she doesn't get up and go to Taylor's, Taylor will simply invite herself over. It's easier to just give in. But goddammit, she doesn't want to.

With a sigh, she makes herself get out of bed. This had better be good. If it's not, they'll never find Taylor's body.

***

It's closer to an hour and a half by the time Miley makes it to Taylor's doorstep. She accidentally washed her hair with body wash and then spilled coffee on herself when she was trying to rush out the door and ended up having to change. None of it has made her think that getting out of bed was even close to worth it.

The elevator doors open and Miley steps off into the condo. It's suspiciously quiet. Taylor is many things, but quiet wouldn't even make the list. Miley heads back to the kitchen, figuring that she was promised breakfast and that's where she's most likely to find it.

And sure enough, Taylor, Selena and Demi are all sitting around the kitchen table, picking at bagels and fruit and sipping coffee. Miley raises an eyebrow at them. "Starting without me?"

Demi pushes a chair back with her foot. "Sit."

"What took so long?" Taylor asks curiously as she gets up to pour Miley a cup of coffee. "There can't have been traffic. It's too early."

"No, really?" Miley says sarcastically, flopping down in the chair. "Too early? I had no idea."

"Someone hasn't had their morning coffee," Selena sing songs, taking a drink from her own mug.

Taylor presses a cup into Miley's hand. "Drink. Eat. Wake up."

"Oh, I'm awake," Miley retorts. "Believe me, I'm awake." She takes a sip. "I'm just not happy about it."

Taylor takes the seat across from her and slides a newspaper to her. "Get happy."

Miley looks down at the newspaper like it's a live snake. "Is that what I --?"

Taylor nods. "Yep." She nudges it closer. "Go on, read it."

Miley shakes her head. "No." She doesn't do that. She's had her heart broken too many times by reviewers and critics and people that pretend to know her but don't. If she doesn't know what they say, they can't upset her.

Demi snatches the newspaper. "Fine, I'll do it for you."

"Don't you --"

"Last night at the Troubador, the new duo, The Second, comprised of Taylor Swift and Miley Cyrus played their debut live performance."

Miley groans and drops her head to the table, covering her ears. "Lalalalalalala."

Demi talks louder. "We admit, we were unsure what to expect. Ms. Swift has obviously become a Nashville mainstay over the past decade, but Ms. Cyrus has been on a lengthy hiatus from the music industry. It would not have come as a surprise to find that Ms. Cyrus was being carried by Ms. Swift as she attempted to shake off the rust of a more than five year absence from the stage. We are pleased to report that was not the case."

Miley peeks out from under her arms.

Demi smirks and keeps reading. "The two women were equals from start to finish, debuting an impressive roster of new songs and slipping in covers of old favorites so seamlessly that it seemed as if they'd been written just for the two of them. We don't know what these women have planned for the future, but we can only hope that it's more nights just like this one."

Miley can't help it, she goggles. "It does not say that."

Demi waves the newspaper in front of her face. "See for yourself."

Miley snatches it out of her hand, skims the words. She reads them again and again. They really say that. She doesn't know if she's ever had this good a review, not ever. She looks up at her friends. "It really says that."

They all nod at her.

"I -- I don't know what to say."

"Well, while you're thinking about that," Taylor drawls. "How about you tell us what happened with Nick last night?"

Miley blinks. She blinks again. And again. She did _not_ expect that. Of all the questions that Taylor possibly could have asked her, she's not sure she would have put that in the top thousand. She looks around the table, sees them all staring back at her expectantly. "What do you want me to say?"

"We want the juicy details, duh," Selena says, popping a strawberry into her mouth. "Was it weird?"

"Seeing Nick?" Miley asks, trying to stall long enough to actually come up with an answer. What was weird -- and she's not sure she wants to tell them this -- is how weird it wasn't. It was awkward, sure, they hadn't talked in over two years and it had been years longer since they'd spoken in anything that wasn't platitudes and promises waiting to be broken. This was different. Miley wants to say that it was almost like coming home, but that's too cheesy even for her. It was like finding something that was lost or rekindling a fire that you'd long since thought was put out. It was familiar and it was not. She doesn't know what any of it meant. She doesn't know if she wants to share it. She doesn't know if she can.

She bites her lip, drawing it through her teeth. "It was -- it was good," she says finally. It's not enough; it's not what they want. But it's all that she knows she can safely offer. Whatever last night was, she needs more time to figure it out. She's learned (is learning) that she needs to keep some things for herself. She thinks this is one of those things.

"Good?" Demi asks, disappointment evident in her voice and on her face. "That's it?"

Miley nods. Then she shakes her head. "No. That wasn't it. I just need some time to figure it out." She offers them a half smile. "You'll be the first to know?"

"I suppose if that's the best you can do," Taylor sighs. "Now. I think we should..."

Miley tunes her out. She knows she should be listening, she's sure Taylor's plotting her future for her. But her mind is too full, too full of Nick and this review that's the validation she's been seeking her entire career. They're all she has room for in her mind. Nick and music. Funny how those two things always come together, she thinks.

Maybe it's a sign.

###

It's a loud banging that wakes Nick up. He looks around the room through blurry eyes, trying to figure out where the noise is coming from and how he can make it stop. It takes him longer than he wants to admit, mostly because he can't quite remember where he is at first. All hotel rooms start to look the same after awhile and he's stayed in more hotel rooms than the average person.

The noise is coming from the door. He gets out of bed and pads over to the door, tugging a shirt on over his head as he goes. He checks the judas hole out of habit, he's mostly outgrown crazy, stalking fans, but he's found that they show up in the unlikeliest of places. He really doesn't want this to be one of them. When he sees who it is, he thinks that he'd rather have had the fan.

With a sigh, he opens the door to his brother and David on the other side. "What do you want?"

"Good morning to you too, Nicholas," Joe says cheerfully as he pushes his way into the room. "We aren't interrupting anything are we?"

Nick frowns, motions for David to come in. "What did you think you were going to be interrupting besides me getting some much needed sleep?"

"Oh, I didn't think," Joe says. "I hoped. Alas, it appears to have been in vain."

Nick looks at his brother blankly. He knows Joe is speaking English, he recognizes all the words, but none of them make any sense all strung together.

"He was hoping you got laid," David elaborates at the sight of Nick's face. "But there's no girl. Or boy. Maybe you're into boys now, I don't know."

Nick scrubs his hands across his face. This is all a horrible nightmare, it has to be. He's going to close his eyes and count to ten and when he opens them, he's going to be back in bed, and none of this will have ever happened. He closes his eyes and starts to count silently to himself.

Of course Joe doesn't let him get that far. A pair of jeans lands on his head before he even gets to six. "What the fuck?" he splutters as he pulls them down. "Why would you do that?"

Joe shrugs. "Because. Get dressed, Nicky boy, we're going to breakfast."

"No, you're leaving and I'm going back to sleep."

Joe looks at him pityingly. "You don't really think that's going to happen, do you?"

Nick doesn't. But that doesn't mean he doesn't curse god for not making him an only child as he's drug out the door. That would be asking too much.

***

They end up in a diner, the kind that has vinyl seats and surly waitresses. Joe and David are in heaven; Nick's still upset about being forced to get out of bed.

A waitress slaps menus down on the table in front of them, pours coffee and leaves. Nick appreciates the efficiency. And the coffee. He reads the menu while Joe and David fight over who gets access to the sugar first. Joe wins.

"So Nick," Joe says as he dumps in about five sugar packets into his coffee. "How did things go with Miley last night? I couldn't help but --" David gives Joe a look and Joe slides the sugar across the table and continues. "-- right, we couldn't help but notice that the two of you were talking for an awfully long time."

"All alone," David says, stirring his coffee. "It was downright intimate, wouldn't you say, Joe?"

"Did you two practice this?" Nick grumbles, taking another drink of his own coffee. He searches in vain for the waitress, hoping for an easy way out of this conversation, but he knows that no relief will be forthcoming. She'll be back when she wants to be back and not a minute sooner.

David and Joe trade glances. "Practice?" Joe says. "Us? I"m hurt by that, Nicholas."

Nick snorts.

Joe ignores him. "So anyway. Miley."

"We're not asking for all the juicy details or anything," David says. He frowns. "Well, actually we are. But not in a girly way."

The waitress shows up at that exact moment. Nick has never been so happy to see a disgruntled service worker before in his life. He makes a mental note to leave a really big tip. "What'll you have?" she demands, looking around the table with a menacing look.

Nick takes a small amount of satisfaction in the fear on Joe and David's faces.

They all order and the waitress leaves. Nick drinks more coffee. Joe and David stare at him expectantly.

Finally Nick sighs and puts down his coffee cup. "If I give you something, will you shut up about it and we can move on to other topics like the fact that Joe's been sitting on an engagement ring for at least two months?"

Joe nods and David starts to, but then what Nick said sinks in. His head snaps towards Joe and he looks at him with shock. "What? You've been holding out on me, Jonas."

Joe glares at Nick. "Thanks, little brother."

Nick shrugs even as he laughs. "You deserved it"

"Excuse me?" David says. "Engagement ring?"

There's something close to panic in Joe's eyes. Nick probably shouldn't be so amused by this. "Look," Joe says, pointing towards the kitchen doors. "Breakfast!"

"Saved by the hashbrowns," David quips, and then the waitress is dumping their plates on the table and they all dig into the food. All thought of anything else vanishes, along with their breakfasts.

Nick's more than a little relieved.

###

Life goes back to normal. Joe and Demi go back to New York. David and Selena go back to L.A. Nick goes back to Chicago. Miley keeps going over to Taylor's to write and rehearse, and it's like nothing at all has changed.

Except everything has.

It all starts innocently enough. She's in the checkout line at the grocery store when her phone vibrates in her pocket. She switches her basket to the other hand and digs the phone out, pressing the buttons to view the text. It's only one word, but suddenly there's a fluttering in her stomach that she thought she'd outgrown. It's ridiculous, she lectures herself silently. The word "hi" should not cause this kind of reaction. She's supposed to be an --

"Miss?" the cashier says loudly. "You're next."

Miley blinks. "I'm so sorry," she babbles, dropping the phone in her purse and putting her basket on the conveyor belt. She makes an apologetic gesture at the people in line behind her. "I'm sorry."

Everyone ignores her. She watches the cashier scan and bag her groceries, trying to force herself not to think about what any of it means. Could mean. It might be nothing. Probably is nothing. She sees the cashier finish and pulls out her wallet. She swipes her debit card and the cashier hands over her bags and Miley bolts. She dumps the groceries in the passenger seat and pulls out her phone again.

What it says hasn't changed, even if part of her expected it to disappear like it had never happened at all.

"Hi."

One word. One syllable. A greeting used by millions of people every day. It's a nothing word, one used without intent or purpose.

But this means something. It does. She knows it does. She knows he means it to mean something.

She takes a deep breath. Types in a reply. Hits send.

She drops her phone back into her purse and puts the keys in the ignition. It's his move. She hopes there's an answer when she gets home.

***

They start texting each other several times a day. It's never about anything serious, just quick mentions of how their days are going, what they had for dinner, what movie they just watched.

Words like "I miss you" or "I think I might still love you" are not said. Miley tries not to think them either. Where they are is good. They're rebuilding a friendship lost to time and distance and bad timing, and that can't be fixed with scotch tape and a smile. She knows that.

She's just never been very good at waiting.

Most of her wants to tell someone, anyone, about what's going on, but a smaller part, the part where common sense and remembered disappointments lives, tells her to keep it to herself. To wait and see if maybe this is more than merely rekindled friendship. She's ninety-eight percent sure she wants it to be more. She has no idea what Nick is thinking.

One day her phone rings while she's loading the dishwasher. She almost drops a glass in her haste to get to the phone. (She really hates loading the dishwasher.) Nick's name is flashing next to the words incoming call and she can't help it, she freezes. Suddenly the stakes seem that much higher.

She answers. "Hello?"

"Miley," Nick says. She thinks he might sound nervous. "Hi."

"Hi," she echoes stupidly. Her heart is beating absurdly fast. "What's up?"

"Nothing," he says, and she swears she can almost see him shrugging. "I just thought we'd try something new."

She leans back against the counter. "Oh, I don't know that this is new. I remember doing this a lot." Right after she says it, she wishes she could call the words back. They've been very careful to keep things in the here and now, to avoid mentions of their past. And the first time he calls, she goes and ruins it.

"You're right," he says. "We did."

Miley blinks. Did he just admit she was right about something? "Can you repeat that?" she asks. "I want to find a tape recorder. Save that for posterity."

He laughs, low and deep. A shiver goes down Miley's spine. She ignores it. "Sorry, that was a one time only thing," he says.

"Mean."

"You know you like it."

She does, but she's certainly not going to tell him that. "So really, you just decided the time was right to call?"

"Yeah," he says. "Wait, is that okay? Should I have not called?" He sounds anxious. She didn't mean to make him anxious. Especially if it means he won't call again.

"No, no," she says hurriedly. "It's fine. It's good. It's more than good. I'm glad you called."

"Really?"

"Really."

There's a silence. It's less awkward than Miley thinks it should be. But eventually she feels compelled to fill it, silence is another thing she's never been good at.

"Did I tell you that Taylor's setting up some kind of mini-tour?"

"No. That's awesome, Miles." He pauses. "That is awesome, right?"

She laughs. "It is," she assures him. "I'm excited about it. Less excited about living in hotel rooms and out of a suitcase, but excited nonetheless." She hesitates. "You should come to one of the shows, maybe. I think we're doing one in Chicago."

"I'll be there," he says with no hesitation at all. "Or where ever. Just let me know."

Miley can feel a ball of happiness unfurling in her stomach. This talking thing is _wonderful_, she doesn't know why they didn't try it sooner. "Really?"

"Really."

She smiles, more than a little foolishly she's sure, and somehow manages to resist the urge to dance around her kitchen. She sees the clock on the microwave out of the corner of her eye. "Shoot."

"What's wrong?"

"I'm supposed to meet Taylor to plan some more stuff, do you mind? I can call to --"

"Go," Nick orders. "We'll talk later."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

She knows Nick always tries to keep his promises. "Okay, I'm going. Nick?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm so glad you called."

She hangs up before he can say goodbye. As she dances out her front door, she is very glad that she lives by herself and that no one is around to see it. Because she's pretty sure she looks completely ridiculous. It's totally worth it.

###

Nick's asleep in bed when his phone rings. He fumbles for it out of habit, not because of any real desire to answer it. "What?" he mumbles into the phone.

"I'm engaged!"

Nick sits straight up, rubbing at his eyes. "Joe?" That was Joe's voice, wasn't it? Saying he was engaged? Nick's not awake enough for this.

"Do you have another brother that could possibly be calling to tell you that he's engaged?"

"Not unless there's something Frankie's not telling me," Nick retorts. He smiles. "Congratulations, man. To you and to Demi, though I still think she could have done better."

"Hey!"

Suddenly Demi's voice is on the line, "Thanks, Nick, but I already knew that. I've told him that before, but he keeps on following me home, so I may as well keep him."

"As long as you know," Nick says.

"I'm standing right here," Joe says. Nick can hear the pout in his voice. He rolls his eyes, knowing something disgusting is just around the corner.

And sure enough, he hears Demi say, "Aw, you know I love you," in the background and the sound of kissing through the phone.

"Guys?" he tries. "Still here."

"Right," Joe says, sounding more like himself again. "Sorry. Well, not really, but I know you're all alone right now and I don't want to rub it in."

"Thanks, Joe."

"Anytime, little brother. We're going to go, we have more people to call and wake up to share the good news, but we wanted to tell you first."

"I'm glad you did," Nick says. "And Joe, really. Congratulations. To both of you."

"Thanks. Later."

"Later."

Nick drops the phone back on the nightstand and lays back down, folding his arms back behind his head. He'd known this was coming, of course, he was there when Joe picked out the ring. But knowing it's actually happened, that's so much more final somehow.

Kevin's married, with two great kids. Joe's about to get married. Frankie's got another year of high school left and then college. His brothers are all growing up and moving on, and he's been standing still, letting life happen to him.

He's done with that now. From now on, he's going to steer the course. And he's pretty sure he knows where he wants to start.

###

Miley hangs up the phone with a sigh. She's happy for Joe and Demi -- thrilled really. They're two of her absolute favorite people in the world and they're _right_ together in a way that makes her hopeful that there's someone that right out there for everyone. (She knows who that right person is for her. She's always known.) And when she was on the phone with Demi, she'd been happy and bubbly and all the things that you're supposed to be when one of your best friends, if not your best friend, tells you that they're getting married.

Moving back to Nashville was the absolute right thing to do, she's certain of that. She's happy for the first time in years. She has a new purpose in life, closer relationships with her friends and family than she has in longer than she can remember, but something is still missing.

She's still alone. She's tired of being alone. She wants to be with Nick.

"I want to be with Nick," she says aloud, the words echoing off the walls, filling the emptiness of the silent room. If nothing else, she's admitted it to herself now. Oh, she's known for weeks now where she wanted this renewal of their friendship to lead, but this is the first time she's actually let herself admit it. She didn't want to get ahead of herself, she didn't want to rush. She didn't want to make it more than it was, she didn't want to be wrong.

She's ninety-five percent sure that Nick feels the same way, but it's the five percent that gnaws at her mind, that makes her hold back, keep some part of her heart for herself. She's had her heart broken too many times by Nick the boy, and she feels sure that Nick the man could shatter it forever.

She thinks he could hold it forever, if only he wanted to. She hopes he wants to.

She picks up the phone. Presses four, the number he's worked his way up to on her speed dial. Lets the phone ring.

Someone told her once, with great risk comes great reward. She's ready to start taking risks again. She wants the rewards.

###

Kevin and Danielle throw the engagement party and they all descend on Dallas. The party is on a Saturday, and Nick flies in on Thursday. He's nervous. He's certain that something is about to happen, he can feel it in the air. Things with him and Miley, there's a tension that wasn't there in the beginning. It's as if every word they speak brings them closer to something, something neither of them has said out loud yet.

He thinks he's ready to say them out loud.

He stays with his parents for this visit. Whether or not they'll admit it (and they won't), the last thing that Kevin and Danielle need with party guests about to invade their home is extra house guests. Still, it's strange staying with his parents. When he stays with Kevin and Danielle, he doesn't think twice about staying in a guest bedroom, there's nowhere else he'd expect to sleep. But when he stays with his parents, he's very conscious of the fact that he's a visitor in a place that he used to call home. He still has a room, of course, but it's not his, not in the way it was when he was a teenager. It's strange, the things that make him feel like an adult.

 

The night of the party, he drives over with Joe and Demi. He'd meant to drive over with his parents and Frankie (and Frankie's girlfriend and that's another thing that makes Nick feel old), but somehow he'd forgotten what it was like to share a bathroom with Joe and Joe's hair. Nick had never stood a chance of being ready on time, let alone early.

 

When they all get to the party, the house is already crowded with people. Joe and Demi are immediately swept off into the masses by Danielle, but Nick is left to his own devices. He's fine with that; he really only has one thing on his mind.

 

He needs to find Miley.

 

He finally finds her standing next to the window in the great room, chatting animatedly with Taylor and John. She's wearing a strapless blue dress, her hair loose and tumbling down around her shoulders. There's a wide smile on her face and she's talking with her hands, nearly spilling the glass of red wine in her right hand again and again.

 

Somehow it's the perfect blend of who she was and who she is, and he knows in that moment that he's never stopped loving her. He's never going to stop loving her.

 

More than anything else, he wants to tell her. But he knows that this isn't the time. It's Joe and Demi's moment and he can't take that away from them, even if they'd approve and be happy about it.

 

He takes a deep breath and pushes his feelings back under. He can wait. He makes himself smile and goes to say hello.

 

Just because he can wait, doesn't mean he can't talk to her. He deserves at least that.

 

###

 

Miley feels Nick walk into the room. She's always had a sixth sense where he's concerned, able to tell when he was watching her from afar, even if she didn't know from where. She can feel him hesitating and she can feel when he decides to join them.

 

Still, when he touches her, presses his palm against her back, burning her skin through the thin material of her dress, it's a surprise. She doesn't know why she's surprised that he can still undo her with a touch; she's always known he could do that, too.

She hears him talking to John and Taylor, but she's too conscious of the hand that's still on her back to know what he's saying. She hopes no one is talking to her, because she's sure she wouldn't actually be able to answer in words.

 

She sneaks a glance up at Nick's face. It's the same, but it's different somehow. The jaw that she traced her fingers across a thousand times is the same, but it's stronger now, the set of it more resolved. The freckles on his cheeks are still there, but she can no longer see the patterns in them that she used to know by heart. She wonders if she could relearn them. He still has the curls that she tangled her hands in a million times, but they're shorter and she doesn't remember how they felt under her hands. His eyes are the same, but with something else behind them. She thinks it might be wisdom and she wants to know what he's learned. If it's something she can learn from him.

 

Someone coughs, and she blinks the room back into focus. John and Taylor are smiling at her indulgently and Nick's looking back at her with heat in his eyes. She feels the embarrassment at being caught staring first, but there's an answering pull of heat low in her stomach.

 

"Sorry," she says, shaking her head to try to clear the lust that's suddenly fogging her brain.

 

"We're just going to go," Taylor says and she grabs John's hand and drags him away, leaving Miley alone with Nick which is both the last and only place that she wants to be. She thinks it's strange the way that happens.

 

Miley looks back up at Nick. He's still looking at her like she's the only thing in the world that he sees. It's a look she remembers, it's a look she never thought she'd see again.

 

She licks her lips unconsciously. Nick's eyes get darker.

 

"Miley," he says and she shifts just a little closer. His fingers are tracing absent patterns on her back now. It feels like he's branding her, staking a claim, taking back what's always been his. She wishes that he'd hurry up and take the rest of her, too.

 

"Miley," he says again and his palm flattens against her back, drawing her into him. He starts to bend his head and she thinks that this is it. His breath ghosts against her lips and then she hears someone say his name.

 

He straightens quickly, pulling his hand back like they're teenagers getting caught doing something they shouldn't again. She misses his heat.

 

###

 

"What the - -" Nick says, looking around the room for the source of the interruption. When he finds them, he's going to kill them, Nick knows that for certain. He doesn't let himself look down at Miley. He knows what will happen if he does.

 

Someone claps him on the shoulder, Nick spins around to face them. "Kevin," he says with annoyance. "What is it?"

 

Kevin raises an eyebrow at him. "Nice to see you, too." He smiles at Miley. "Hey, Miles."

 

"Hi, Kevin," she says. Nick looks down at her and her face is totally composed, as if they weren't about to kiss five seconds before. She's always been a better actress than she's given credit for.

 

Kevin looks back at Nick. "Time for your toast," he says. "Remember, Joe and Demi, the whole reason we're all here. You said you'd give a toast."

 

"Right," Nick says. "The toast. Sure. Let's do this." He glances back down at Miley. "I'll find you after?" He says it like it's a question, but they both know it's not.

 

She nods.

 

He lets his fingers drag across her arm as Kevin leads him away. He feels her eyes follow him out of the room. He hopes this is fast.

 

***

Kevin leads him to the great room, where Joe and Demi are standing in front of the fireplace, both of them wearing bemused smiles.

"Are we having fun yet?" he asks as he joins them. He knows he was. At least until Kevin showed up.

"My cheeks hurt from too much smiling and Joe's mad that every time he tries to eat someone takes his food away," Demi informs him. "But other than that, we're just super."

Nick laughs. "Too much smiling?" he teases, already in a better mood. "That's a fate worse than death."

"I stopped acting for a reason," she says, frowning at him. "Being told to smile on command is so not my thing."

"And why won't they let me eat?" Joe demands. "This party is supposed to be about me -- about us," he corrects, at the sight of Demi's arched eyebrow. "Don't I deserve food?"

Nick catches sight of Kevin and Danielle moving towards them. "Well, you'd both better start smiling, Kevin and Dani are heading this way."

Both of them instantly plaster smiles on their faces and Nick smothers another laugh as Kevin and Danielle come stand next to him.

"Are you two having a good time?" Danielle asks anxiously.

Both Joe and Demi nod.

"Definitely," Demi says.

"It's a great party," Joe agrees. "Thanks, both of you."

Danielle smiles with relief. "Oh, thank god."

Nick turns another laugh into a cough. Joe's acting lessons really have paid off. Kevin thumps him on the back.

"Alright, Nick?" he asks.

Now Nick's coughing for real. "Just need a minute," he manages. He takes giant, gasping breaths, sucking in air, trying to get back to normal. Someone passes him a glass, and he takes a tiny sip of water. It helps. "Thanks," he says gratefully, before taking another drink. The coughing stops. He gives a sigh of relief.

"Maybe we should get this show on the road before Nick chokes to death," Kevin says. Everyone nods, and Kevin takes a step forward. "If I could have your attention," he says loudly, and most of the chatter in the room comes to a halt. "Thank you," he says. "As you all know, we're gathered together to celebrate Joe and Demi's engagement today. It's a day we've long suspected was coming and Demi's always been like a part of the family, but it's nice to make that official." There's scattered applause and Kevin pauses. "Now, if you can spare your attention for a few minutes longer, Nick is going to say a few words. Nick?"

He steps to the front of the group and instantly spots Miley standing in the doorway. He makes himself look away, certain that he won't be able to get through this if he's staring at her, equally certain that he won't be able to help himself. "Like Kevin said," he starts. "This day has been a long time coming. In fact, I'm pretty sure that most of us knew it was coming before they did."

The crowd laughs and when he looks back over his shoulder, Joe and Demi have the grace to look sheepish. Nick smiles.

"And like Kevin said," he continues. "Demi's been part of our family for a long time. Since we were all teenagers, really, since before there was a Joe and Demi. Even back then, we could see that Joe and Demi had a special relationship, one that was different from the one that she shared with me, or with Kevin. It was something that you just knew could be special one day if they'd just get out of their own ways and let it be." He pauses, finds Miley's eyes in the crowd. "And when Joe called me one day and said, 'Nick, I'm in love with Demi', I wasn't in the least bit surprised. Because I'd always known. I was just relieved that they'd finally gotten out of their own ways and let themselves be. Because I knew that's all it would take for them to be happy." He pauses, takes a quick look back over his shoulder at Joe and Demi, sees Demi sniffling just a little. He looks back at Miley, raises his glass. "So here's to getting out of your own way. And here's to Joe and Demi. Welcome to the family, Dem."

"Here's to Joe and Demi," the crowd echoes back at him, raising their glasses. He drinks. Everyone in the crowd follows suit.

He turns back to his brothers and Demi launches herself into his arms, hugging him tight. "That was beautiful," she sniffles. She draws back, pats him on the cheek. "And I certainly hope you're going to listen to your own advice."

He nods, not even pretending to not know what she's talking about. He looks at his brother. "Joe."

"Nicholas," Joe says, stepping forward and giving him a hug. He wraps Nick on the back once, sharply. "Get out of your own way."

Nick nods again. "I will." He cocks his head to the side. "Now if you'll all excuse me..."

"Go," Demi orders, making shooing motions with her hands. "I don't want to see you again tonight, you hear?"

Nick grins. "I am so glad you're going to be my sister," he says, bending his head to kiss her cheek quickly. He turns, intent on heading for the door, for Miley, but she's not there any longer. He squares his shoulders and goes after her. It's past time he got out of his own way.

***

He finds Miley sitting outside, on the front steps. He doesn't say a word, just settles down next to her, so that they're sitting hip to hip. Her skin is hot against his. He resists touching, barely.

"That was beautiful," she says finally.

He starts, not sure if he's been sitting there for five minutes or five seconds. "It was all true," he says, sneaking a glance at her profile.

She nods, just once. She reaches over and takes his hand. "Come with me."

She stands, not waiting for an answer. He follows, just like she had to know he would. She leads him to a car parked on the street, slips behind the wheel. He sits in the passenger seat. She starts the car and they drive away.

###

Miley takes him back to her hotel. It feels right somehow, like the only place this can end. They haven't said a word or made any promises, but from the moment he touched her tonight, somehow she always knew it would end with him in her bed.

As much as she wants the words and the feelings, at this exact moment, she wants him in her bed more. If he doesn't put his hands on her soon, finish what he started with a press of his hand and a heated look, she's going to lose her mind.

They don't touch as the elevator rises. They just stand side by side, the air between them charged with electricity. When the elevator doors open to her floor, she takes his hand and leads him down the hall to her room. She fumbles with the key, she can feel him behind her, his warmth enveloping her. His breath hits her ear and she shivers just a little. The door opens and she almost falls through.

He reaches out, steadies her, even as he's following her inside. The door closes. She turns to face him and she sees him open his mouth to speak. She doesn't let him; she kisses him instead.

If she startles him, he doesn't show it. He just kisses her back, folding his arms around her, drawing her into him. She presses back against him, twining her hands in his hair.

It's like coming home; it's like nowhere she's ever been. She wants to stay here for the rest of her life.

They stumble their way toward the bed, neither willing to stop touching the other for even a second. She learns the ways that the planes of his shoulders have changed, been reshaped. He traces the new curves of her body, rediscovering the places that still make her arch into him and finding new ones all at once. Her hands slip beneath the hem of his shirt and he shudders, just like he used to. It makes her happy that some things don't change.

She falls back onto the bed, Nick looming above her. She scoots backward, pulling him down with her. As she moves back, her skirt bunches up around her thighs. He traces the newly exposed skin with his hands, leaving goosebumps in his wake. She works frantically at unbuttoning his shirt, needing to touch more of his skin. He helps her push the shirt off his shoulders, she turns her back so that he can draw down the zipper of her dress. He does it slowly, pressing kisses along the length of her spine as more and more skin is revealed. When he's finished, he helps peel the fabric away, leaving her practically bare before his hot gaze.

She thinks she should be self-conscious, he hasn't seen her like this since she was nineteen years old, but somehow it's the most natural thing in the world. When she pulls him down on top of her and they meet, skin to skin, it feels like the most right thing Miley's ever done. He reaches behind her to unfasten her bra, she fumbles with his belt buckle. She shoves his pants down his hips, palming him through the cotton of his boxers. He hisses and suddenly things become urgent.

They separate for seconds only, each rushing to remove the rest of their clothes, before they twine themselves back together. He suckles at her breast, she strokes his cock. Their skin is sweaty, pressed together, moving against each other. A hand snakes down her body, presses between her legs. Her flesh is slippery against his fingers and she arches into the touch as he slips one finger, than another inside her. She squirms restlessly as he touches her; his thumb grazes her clit and her hips buck up against his hand.

"Now," she says. It is the only word either of them has spoken.

He draws back, fumbling for his pants. She watches him through heavy eyes, anxious to have his hands back on her, anxious to have him inside her. He finds his wallet, draws out a condom. She sits up, takes it from him. She tears open the package, rolls it onto him slowly, deliberately. She watches him, sees the moment when his eyes close and his teeth grit. She smiles. The moment she's finished, he's pushing her back onto the sheets. He slides inside her, holding her gaze, daring her to look away. She doesn't.

They move together. Her hands grasp at his back, her nails digging into his shoulders. She knows she is leaving marks and is glad of it. He bends his head, pressing open mouthed kisses along her collarbone. He slides a hand between their bodies, finds her clit again, and suddenly she's going off like a rocket. She moans his name as she comes, raking her nails against his back, tangling a hand in his hair. She feels him thrust once, twice more and then he's followi

ng her off the edge, her name against his lips as he does.

She strokes her hand gently against his back as he comes back to himself. He rolls off her and out of bed, she assumes to get rid of the condom. When he comes back, he slides back into bed, gathering her to him. She lets him cuddle her against his chest, wraps a leg around his. He turns his head toward her, burying his face in her hair. She feels the moment he drifts off to sleep.

She lies awake in the dark, trying not to wonder if despite everything she's just made a horrible mistake.

###

When Nick wakes up in the morning, Miley is gone. Her bags are gone and there's a note on her pillow. That, and the lingering smell of her perfume, are the only signs that the night before wasn't all a dream.

Nick reads the note. It's short, simple. Just two sentences. _Please forgive me_, it says. _I'll call.___

He doesn't notice as the paper crumples in his fist.

_So when you run make sure you run  
To something and not away from  
Cause lies don't need an aeroplane to chase you anywhere_

~The Avett Brothers, Weight of Lies

 

_Twenty-six and I've grown enough  
I'm not better, but I won't give up  
You're still here like a flower in rain  
You get knocked down then you rise up again_

~ Stephen Kellogg &amp; the Sixers, Flower in Rain

Miley flees back to Nashville. She shouldn't have left like that, she knows that. But it was all suddenly too much and she just couldn't stay. She hopes that someday Nick will be able to forgive her, be able to understand. She hopes that they will still have a someday.

She doesn't take for granted that they will.

When the plane lands, she has panicked messages from Demi and Taylor, both wanting to make sure she's okay, to know what happened to make her leave. She sends them both texts assuring them she's alive and fine and telling them she'll call later. She owes Nick her first phone call, at least once she's figured out what to say.

She's not really sure what made her run. She thinks it was too much too soon, too much what she wanted and not enough all at the same time. She thinks maybe she did need the words. She thinks maybe it's simpler, that she's just a coward who is afraid to let good things happen to her. She knows she needs to call.

She waits until just past dusk and then settles out on her porch, cell phone in hand. She dials and waits. It's the longest ten seconds of her life.

"You're okay," is what he says and it makes her want to weep. He shouldn't be so understanding. She doesn't know if she could be as understanding.

"Yes," she says. "Nick --"

He cuts her off. "It's okay."

She shakes her head, frustrated. This is so like him. "It's not. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have --"

"Miley," he interrupts again. "I promise, it's okay."

She draws her knees up against her chest, leans her forehead against them. She doesn't know how to make him understand what she's not sure she understands herself. "Why aren't you mad?"

He hesitates. "I am," he says finally. "Just a little. I wish you had stayed and talked to me, but I wasn't surprised."

Her back stiffens; she doesn't know if she should be mad about that. "Why?"

He sighs. "Miley, I know you. Despite everything, I know you."

"Yeah, and?" she asks, still not sure what it is that he's driving at. Maybe this is why they hadn't talked about their past. It's all too fraught, too complicated. Too many emotions neither of them have ever dealt with. Well, she assumes Nick hasn't dealt with them. She knows she hasn't.

"You run," he says simply.

She sits up straight. He's right, she knows he's right. She doesn't want him to be right. "You're the one that left," she says feebly, knowing it's not a defense even as she says it.

"I did," he sighs. "But Miley --"

This time she's the one that cuts him off. "I know."

There's a long silence. She can hear his breathing, steady and even, on the other end of the line. She thinks about the last time they were together, the last time they broke up. Nick was the one that left. But if she's honest with herself, she knows that she'd walked out weeks earlier. It was too hard. She didn't think then that relationships should be that hard. She still doesn't know if they should.

She makes herself speak. "So what now?" Her heart is in her throat. She'll understand if he says he can't or he won't. She'll never forgive him if he does.

"Why don't we try to be friends?"

"Friends?" she repeats. Of all the things she'd considered Nick might say, that wasn't even on the list.

"Friends. Let's take a step back and be friends."

"Just friends?" The words fall out of her mouth before she can pull them back. She bites her lip waiting for his answer.

The sound of his laughter, low and deep, fills her with relief. "Miley," he says. "Of all the things we've been and will be, just friends doesn't even make the list."

She smiles for the first time in hours. She can live with friends. For now, she can live with friends. "Okay, then. Friends."

"I should go," he says. "It's been a very long day."

"We'll talk soon, though, right?" She tries not to sound anxious, but suddenly she is worried that when she hangs up the phone it will be the last time she hears his voice.

"I promise. Good night, Miley."

"Good night, Nick."

She continues to sit there, alone in the dark, thinking about what it means to be friends. She doesn't find the answers that she seeks.

###

Nick hangs up the phone with a sigh. It was a conversation he didn't want to have, but he supposes it could have gone much worse. He knows it was a conversation they had to have.

And he knows that trying to be friends is the right thing to do. That doesn't mean he has any idea how to do it.

###

If there's one thing Miley knows how to do well, it's lose herself in her work. So it's with a great deal of enthusiasm that she throws herself into tour rehearsals. She wasn't always enthusiastic about this harebrained scheme of Taylor's, but now she sees it as a godsend. It fills up her days and her nights and leaves her almost no time to obsess about Nick and how this friends thing really isn't working for her.

She can't be in denial if she knows she's in it. At least that's what she tells herself.

But she finds herself calling him almost every night to talk about what went well that day and what didn't, to talk about nothing at all. And on the days when she doesn't call, he calls her. They're friends.

It's wonderful. It's awful. Miley wants it to be more. She knows she doesn't have the right to ask for more.

How can she, when she fled a darkened hotel room and left him behind? No, if they're ever going to be more, Nick is going to have to be the one to ask.

She wishes he'd hurry up already.

***

The tour isn't long or far. Just a month and a handful of cities. Really, Miley thinks, it can't even be properly called a tour, at least not compared to what she's used to. Places like Chicago and Minneapolis, St. Louis and Cleveland. Cities throughout the Midwest that can be driven to on a bus.

She's pretty sure that getting used to life on a bus again is going to be the hardest part.

They've been on the road for two weeks when they head for Chicago. She's had the date circled on her mental calendar since the day Taylor gave her the schedule. (She's pretty sure Taylor has too, given the way she rolls her eyes and retreats to her bunk whenever she catches Miley talking to Nick. Muffled exclamations of "get it together already" are commonly heard coming from that quarter.) The closer they get to the city, the bigger the butterflies in Miley's stomach get. It's not that she's nervous about having Nick at the show, at least it's mostly not about that. She's lived through two weeks of playing and singing and no one's thrown tomatoes yet; she's taking that as a good sign.

No, she's nervous about what comes before. What comes after. About whether or not she'll be able to see him without throwing herself at him and saying "please just give me one more chance." Those thoughts are what are transforming the butterflies into giant, leaping bullfrogs that she'd swear are doing the polka.

She didn't know frogs could do the polka.

In the end, she doesn't see Nick until after the show. She can feel him in the audience all night. There's a pricking on the back of her neck that lets her know that he's there watching. It makes her even more nervous, but it also makes her better; it's easily the best show of the tour. They do two encores and could easily have done a third, but they hadn't rehearsed enough material. Miley's pretty sure Taylor's about to make sure that changes.

When Nick finally makes his way backstage, Miley is practically vibrating with nervous energy. She's talking with Kyle, their drummer, and trying to keep a not too obvious eye on the door when there's a tap on her shoulder. She spins around instantly, Kyle forgotten. She can feel herself smiling so wide she's surprised her cheeks don't crack. "Nick!" She manages to resist throwing her arms around him. Barely.

He's grinning back at her -- and she's just so relieved -- and then he's drawing her into a tight hug and she wraps herself around him, burying her head in the crook of his neck. She lets out a happy sigh. Here, this, in Nick's arms, this is where she belongs. This is where she makes sense. She hates herself for maybe almost ruining that again.

He lets her go, steps back. Smiles at her again. "Hi," he says.

"Hi," she echoes, trying to keep her voice as even as possible. She fails miserably. "What did you think?"

"You guys have gotten even better," he says, nodding his head. "Really, Miley, I'm impressed."

She sighs with relief, raising her hand to her heart. "Thank goodness. I think I might have cried if you hadn't said that."

"You have to know how good you are."

She shifts back and forth uncomfortably, avoiding his gaze.

"Miley."

There's something in his voice that makes her look up. He's staring down at her, eyes completely serious. He takes her hand, squeezes it. "Believe me when I tell you how good you were. Because you were."

She can feel her whole body relax. She squeezes his hand back and smiles at him. "Okay. Thank you."

They stand there, hands joined, just looking at each other. It's almost as if the noise of backstage has faded away, leaving just them. Miley's almost afraid to breathe for fear that it will break the spell. So of course someone else does it for her.

There's another hand on her shoulder and Miley nearly jumps out of her skin. She spins around, clutching at her chest. When she sees Taylor laughing at her, she wants to stamp her foot. "Don't do that," she gasps, trying to catch her breath. "I know we've talked about this."

Taylor holds her hands up in front of her. "You were so far gone in your own world there was no way I wasn't going to scare you to death." She looks at Nick. "Hi there."

Miley can see Nick trying to stiffle his own laughter. "Hi, Taylor," he says. "Great show."

Taylor nods, like it's her due. "Thank you," she says graciously. "So what are you two up to?"

Miley looks at Nick. Looks back at Taylor. "What do you mean up to? We're just standing here." She's not making any assumptions about anything.

Taylor rolls her eyes. "You know perfectly well what I meant." She turns her attention back to Nick. "Nick, you're welcome to join us back at the hotel for drinks. It's our own little unwinding tradition of sorts."

Nick looks down at Miley. Shakes his head. "Thanks for the offer, but I was going to take Miley back to my place. She's never been. Well, that's if she wants to." He looks at her again. "Do you want to?"

She nods her head as quickly as she can.

"Okay, then," Nick says. He looks back at Taylor. "Next time."

Taylor smiles. "Next time." She starts to drift away, calling back over her shoulder, "Have fun, you two!"

Nick looks down at Miley. She looks back up at him. "Want to get out of here?" he asks.

"Yes," she says. It feels like she's been ready forever.

###

They take a cab back to Nick's condo. Halfway through the drive, Nick reaches over and takes Miley's hand, twining their fingers together. She gives him a brilliant smile. He finds himself grinning back at her. It's ridiculous, he thinks. She shouldn't still be able to make him feel like this with only a look and a touch. But she can. She'll probably always be able to.

He knows inviting her back to his place was a terrible idea. It would be ridiculously easy to just fall back into bed and the temptation will be greater there than anywhere else. He's trying to think of it as a test of his will power, to see if he can overcome just how badly he wants her and stick to just being her friend.

He doesn't want to be her friend. He knows suggesting that was the right thing to do, but fuck if it wasn't one of the worst decisions he's ever made. He takes a sideways glance at Miley. It's probably petty of him, but he hopes this is as hard for her as it is for him. She owes him at least that.

When he unlocks the door to his condo, he's oddly nervous. He doesn't remember ever being nervous to have someone over. Not even his parents back when he first bought the place and was expecting an argument about moving out. He mentally shrugs his shoulders and opens the door. Too late for anymore second thoughts.

He holds the door open. "After you."

Miley steps past him and inside. He follows, closing the door behind him. He locks it, hearing the sound of her cowboy boots on the hardwood floors as she walks down the hall.

"Nick," he hears her say. "I love it, I really do."

He actually sighs with relief. "Thanks," he calls out as he hurries to join her. "It's not much, but..."

"Oh, but it's so you," she disagrees.

He finds her in the living room, standing at the bank of windows that made him buy the place. At night, during the day, the view of Chicago is amazing. He thinks that with the sight of her standing there it's just gotten even better. He comes to stand next to her and she turns her head to smile up at him. Something in him snaps.

He bends his head to kiss her.

She makes a noise of surprise against his lips, but moves into the kiss, turning toward him. He wraps an arm around her waist, pulls her closer. He doesn't seem to be able to get close enough. He starts towards the couch, but Miley pulls back, gasping for breath.

"Wait," she says.

He drops his hands from her immediately. Scrubs them over his face. "Goddamn motherfucking shit."

"I'm sorry."

He looks at her. Her hands are twisting together in the fabric of her skirt, and she looks like someone just kicked her puppy. "Don't apologize," he snaps. The look on her face gets worse. He closes his eyes, counts to ten.

"I'll go."

He hears her start for the door. "Stop." She does. He turns to face her. "Miley, I'm sorry. Don't go."

She doesn't turn around. "Are you sure?" she asks. "Because I'd understand --"

"I'm sure," he says. He's not. He knows, logically, that she should go. "Stay."

"Okay," she says, turning back around. "Now what?"

He tries to think of something that's not getting her into his bed. Or couch. Or floor. He shakes his head. "Drinks?"

She raises an eyebrow. "Do you really think that's a good idea?"

No. "Do you have a better one?"

"Drinks it is."

He laughs, nods his head toward the kitchen across the hall. "Follow me."

He's very careful to not touch her as he walks past her. He's always prided himself on his control, but it's hanging by a very slim thread. He pulls a bottle off the small winerack on his counter, holds it out for her inspection. "This okay?"

She just laughs and gives a small shrug of her shoulders. "Still more of a box wine person. You can take the girl out of Tennessee and all that."

"You didn't, though," he points out, digging a corkscrew out of a drawer.

"What do you mean?" She's dropped into a chair at his kitchen table and is watching him work.

He opens the bottle quickly, pouring two glasses. He sets one down in front of her and takes the opposite chair. "Just that you went back. And you never really left, not at heart."

She shakes her head, takes a small sip. Smiles. "It's good," she says with some surprise. "You have excellent taste."

Now he's the one to raise an eyebrow. "You had doubts?"

She kicks him under the table. "Be nice."

"I'm always nice," he protests. She laughs. He frowns. "Okay, I'm nice ninety-five percent of the time." She laughs harder. "Ninety." She keeps laughing. "Eighty." No sign of her stopping. "Just how low do I have to go here, Miles?"

She manages to get herself under control. "Do you really want an answer to that?"

He sighs. "Probably not." A thought occurs to him. "Hey, laughing at me wasn't particularly nice, you know."

"Did I ever claim to be nice?"

He sighs again. "I suppose not." He kicks her gently. "Stop being right, that's my job."

She smiles at him and shakes her head. Takes another drink of wine. She looks away. "What are we doing?"

He blinks and sets down his glass. He knows exactly what she's asking; he's just surprised she did. From the look on her face, she's surprised she asked too. He shakes his head. "I don't know."

She nods once, then twice. "I should go." She stands up, and leans over to kiss his cheek. "We'll talk soon, I promise."

He jumps to his feet. "What? No. Don't go." The last is said feebly, because even though he absolutely doesn't want her to leave, he knows she needs to. They need to figure out what this is before they ruin what's still there between them for good.

She smiles at him again and reaches out to touch his cheek. "We'll talk soon," she repeats. She looks him straight in the eye. "I promise."

He lets himself lean into her hand for just a second, then nods. "Okay."

"Okay."

He walks her to the door in silence, holding it open for her. "Good night," he says. It doesn't feel like enough.

"Good night," she answers, kissing his cheek one more time.

He watches her walk down the hall to the elevator. As she gets on she waves her goodbye. He does the same and then closes the door behind him. They'll talk soon. And this time, they'll know what to say. He has to believe that. If he doesn't let himself believe that, he'd have to give up. He's not ready to do that yet.

###

The rest of the tour goes by in a blur. Miley knows that she got on stage on the nights that she was supposed to and sang her heart out every time, but if someone were to ask her for details or what her favorite city was or her favorite show, she'd just look at them blankly and try to change the subject as quickly as possible.

(She knows this is true, because every reporter they spoke to for publicity asked and she doesn't remember any of her answers. After awhile, Taylor stopped having her do interviews.)

What she does remember from the rest of the tour are the endless thoughts about Nick. Despite their promises to talk soon, they haven't talked since that night in his apartment. Miley thinks it's because they both know that it's the type of conversation they have to have face to face. Whether the outcome is good or bad (and she lets herself believe it will be good most of the time), they owe it to themselves, past and present, to tell each other their truths in person.

They get back to Nashville on a Tuesday morning. By Tuesday night, Miley is ready to buy a plane ticket. She orders Chinese from the delivery place two streets away, wishing it were sushi instead, and distracts herself from turning on her laptop and ordering a plane ticket by sorting her laundry while she waits for her food. When she hears the knock on her door, she happily abandons her task, grabbing her purse from the kitchen counter as she dashes for the front door. "I'm coming!" she calls out, not even sure the kid will be able to hear her. She flings the door open.

Nick is standing on the other side. Holding flowers. And wearing a suit.

She's wearing sweats and a ratty tank top and has her hair bundled up on the top of her head, bangs pulled back with a headband. All she can do is blink at him.

"Hi," he says.

"Hi," she says dumbly. Seriously, one of them missed a memo somewhere. And it sure seems like it was her. What is he doing here?

"Can I come in?"

She blinks again. "Right. Sure. Of course," she babbles, stepping aside so that he can come inside. "I just got home not that long ago and I'm cleaning and waiting for Chinese and I thought you were the food and --"

Nick covers her mouth with his hand. "Miley. Take a breath."

She does. He removes his hand.

She can't help it, the words coming tumbling out. "Nick, what are you doing here?"

He hands her the flowers. "Taylor didn't tell you I was coming, did she?"

"What?" The word comes out as a screech. "What?"

He actually has the audacity to laugh, before she can have more than a passing thought about kill him too, the doorbell rings. She looks back and forth at the door and him, and Nick gives her a gentle shove towards the kitchen. "Go put those in water," he says. "I'll get the food."

The only reason she does what he says is that she needs a minute to think. A minute where he's not in front of her and looking good enough to eat and she's not filled with thoughts about climbing him like a tree. She blinks at herself. Apparently she's hornier than she realized on top of everything else.

She finds a vase in one of her cupboards and is filling it with water when Nick walks into the kitchen, arms laden down with bags of food. She frowns. She hadn't realized she'd ordered so much. "Let me pay you back," she says as she unwraps the flowers and puts them into the vase.

He shakes his head, setting the bags down on the counter. "No, I've got it."

"I'm the one that ordered the food."

He rolls his eyes at her and she sighs heavily. She knows she's being ridiculous. She doesn't need him reminding her. "I was going to take you out to dinner," he says. "We'll just call this dinner."

She stares at him. "You were going to -- you were going to what?" She shakes her head. "Taylor is dead."

Nick shakes his head. "It's my fault. I should have called."

"No," she sighs. "I should have called. I said we'd talk and then I didn't call and I'm --"

Nick doesn't let her finish, he just takes a step forward and kisses her. Miley almost drops the vase she's still holding.

They grab at it together, a little water splashing over the top and onto the cotton of Miley's tank top. She looks up at Nick. "Oops?"

He takes the vase from her, sets it on the counter. "Let's try that again," he suggests, bending his head toward her again.

She pushes him back. "I thought we were going to talk before we did that. I mean, wasn't that the whole point?"

Nick frowns at her. "When did you become the logical one in this relationship?"

She throws her hands up in the air. "This is what I'm talking about!" she exclaims, turning away from him and starting to pace the length of the kitchen. "Are we in a relationship? Is that what this is? Are we have friends that just have sex sometimes? Because I don't want that to be what we are, Nick, I don't. And I'm sorry about last time, but I got scared because --"

Nick grabs her shoulders, stops her.

She says the words looking straight up at him. "-- because I'm still in love with you."

"Me, too," he says.

Her jaw drops. She'd hoped -- hoped so much more than she'd ever hoped for anything before -- that was true, but she'd never thought he'd just say it straight out like that. But then, what is he saying "me, too" about exactly? "Me, too, what?"

He laughs, cups her chin in his hand. Looks her in the eye, and she can see it there. The amount of love reflected there, it's almost enough to make her not need the words. He gives them to her anyway. "I'm still in love with you, too," he says slowly. "I love you, Miley."

"Yeah?" she whispers. Her hands have found the way to the front of his suit jacket and are clenching the lapels.

"Yeah," he nods. He bends his head so that he's a hairsbreadth away from kissing her. "Am I allowed to do this now?"

She doesn't answer, but pulls him forward, taking the choice out of his hands. She can feel him smile against her lips.

She takes his hand and leads him up the stairs to her bedroom. The Chinese gets cold on the counter.

***

It's six days before her twenty-fifth birthday and Miley is sitting in a restaurant in Nashville with all her family and friends. It's exactly a year from the date that she realized just how unhappy she was. She remembers feeling alone and unhappy and so many other things, but now she doesn't remember what that felt like.

How can she, when she's sitting her with the people that she loves the most and who love her in return. How can she, when she's sitting here with Nick by her side, his hand warm on her knee as they listen to her daddy tell a story about filming his newest tv movie. How can she, when she looks at John and Taylor sitting across from her, knowing that in six months they're going to become parents for the first time. How can she, knowing that Joe and Demi are sitting on the other side of Nick and that they're getting married in just a few short weeks.

This was all there waiting for her; she doesn't know how she ever took that for granted.

Nick takes her hand beneath the table, leans over to whisper in her ear. "Should we tell them?" he asks, his breath hot against her skin.

She shakes her head. She bends towards him, whispers back, "Not tonight."

He nods. She settles her head against his shoulder, and he wraps his arm around hers.

It's six days before her twenty-fifth birthday and Miley is happy. She believes she'll stay that way forever.


End file.
